When shirtless fatties rub the ball on their sweaty stomachs and then pass you the ball

That’s not a towel there, lunch ass, it’s what we all have to touch for the duration of this game. If you’re lucky, even you can touch it and you can perform your dawdling backdown from the key to the block, wherein your ass takes life and rightly swallows your defender from the knees up. Can’t wait.

– When goons lobby for “make it, take it”

“It’s a different monster, man. This is streetball; you gotta earn it.” Yes I agree, meathead, it is a different monster — a grotesque fiend out to rampage the decency of the game. Here’s how Naismithian basketball is played: you score; you go on defense. Anything else is an insult to the game that rewards lazy streetballas who feel like playing offense all day.

– When people show up in jeans

Throw on some shorts, Levi Strauss; we’re playin’ ball, not bailin’ hay.

– When unathletic, competitive old people wanna play

“I got next,” says the leather-skinned 60-something adjusting his knee pad. No, sir, you hack to compensate for bygone quickness, you shoot weird sky hooks and set shots that piss me off, your favorite player is Bill Sharman and I feel weird sticking my forearm on your underbelly.

– When showtimers want you to go backdoor when you are wide open on the wing

“I could pass it to you now since you are on the wing and your man is on the block,” thinks shitty showtime point guard, “but that sexy chicken is watching on the bench. So I tell ya what, you cut backdoor into your man waiting on the block, and I’ll huck a behind-the-back laser into the street. Cool?” No, pass me the rock now, big tymer. If that woman is worth your time she will appreciate the art making the right pass.

– When girls wanna play who don’t know howta play

– “OMG CAN I PLAY?”

– “Can you tell me what a double dribble is?”

– “You’re such a dick.”

– “No, you cannot play.”

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–Mark Brenden