Anderson Parker - The Run - Entry #2: "The 21st Round Draft Pick" lyrics

Entry #2: The 21st Round Draft Pick See Annotated edition of this entry The idea of choosing teams is a fairly simple concept, but as with most things in pickup basketball, we've managed to muck it all up and make it exponentially more complicated than it has to be. Obviously, you can't have a game without distinct teams that play against one another. Therein lies one of the more bewildering aspects of pickup ball, and depending on the run and age group, picking teams can vary dramatically. But before we dive into that circus, let me take you back to the playground days of recess when our minds could not fathom more than one option on picking teams – the good ole “Captain Method”: The Captain Method version 1.0: As children, the default methodology to fairly divide up teams was to choose two captains who would then go back and forth to pick the players they wanted on their team. Maybe we weren't capable of creatively conjuring up anything better, but this seemed to literally be the only option that existed and actually was quite fair. Although, as I write that, the snake draft method, aka the serpentine method, would have been much more fair, and the “back and forth” method was actually wildly in the favor of the first pick (God bless the genius who introduced the snake method to Fantasy drafts…kids are idiots). The Captain Method, while seemingly reasonable and innocuous, led to many issues. For starters, how do you determine the two captains? As a 5th grader, sk** development hadn't yet taken place, so “winners of the genetic lottery” were usually defaulted as the captains. If that wasn't clear yet, then the usual rules that seem to govern life in general took over: the kid with the sandy brown hair that falls just so, the kid with the girlfriend (the few aliens that were ahead of the curve and knew this concept even existed), the kid with the Lunchables Deluxe including the Andes mint chocolate nibble as a lunch trade a**et, or the kid who had the Nintendo and Sega Genesis (spoiled little sh**). Interestingly, these “chosen ones” were often not even sure if they wanted to be captains, I mean, that's a lot of pressure; sometimes they had to choose between their friends and the best players available which could be very upsetting and set in motion some problematic behaviors that would last throughout life. What do you do when you have 2 out of the 3 friends from your posse on your team and that 3rd friend was the worst player remaining in the pool (this kid will grow up to be what I refer to as a “run k**er” in the future)? People, these moments can shape lives and self-esteems…and this really happens every single day on the playground. In retrospect, how did any of us make it successfully to adulthood? Once we settled on the two captains for the day, how did we determine which captain picked first? This was much less defined, often being determined in a haphazard fashion, such as the two captains randomly deciding the order. No reasoning behind it, no shooting for the first pick, no arguments, no controversy. This is shocking given the high stakes involved. Let me paint a detailed picture on what happened next: The pool of players (kids) stood in a row, usually nervously shifting from one foot to the other during the selection process, many avoiding eye contact with the Captains. The selection process was not behind closed doors by the way…no, it happened in front of everyone, the tension was palpable, and somehow the group of draftees remained orderly throughout, other than the occasional “pick me!!!” or “nooo, not him!!!” Kids can be cruel, or honest I suppose, as we know. With each respective pick, dreams came true or were dashed, and as the anticipation mounted, the captains declared their picks like they were David Stern announcing each NBA pick, “And with the first pick of today's draft, I select Brandon!” Everyone else in the player pool, no matter how undeserving they were to be picked, felt a wave of disappointment – they had hoped today was the day they would break through and be picked first…or not. Then the first overall pick, Brandon, standing at 4'11” and 95 lbs, would cross over from the proverbial line of hopeful draftees, pride swelling in his chest, looking back at the group of losers who he'd deemed to be better than, and stand by Johnny. The first round pick generally stood by the Captain, while the remaining picks would stand behind the Captain and his right hand man. And while there was no actual line on the ground, the separation between the kids picked and the ones remaining in the draft pool might as well have been the 38th parallel. God forbid you were still in North Korean territory after 3 or 4 rounds…I have seen my share of Charlie's and Jimmy's with tears welling up in their eyes as they realized nothing had changed from last year to last week to today: they were still an undrafted free agent, still a loser, no matter how many shots Dad would put up with them in the driveway or at the local park. They would then shuffle off to go brick some layups or give up on life for the day. And it was always just that day, wasn't it? Because the next day, the next run, there they were torturing themselves through the same process all over again, God dammit. After the teams were chosen, we would all then consider where that left us in the pecking order of our cla**, our friends, and perhaps where we were destined to be for the rest of our lives. The most frequent strategy of selecting players made a lot of sense – just pick the best player available at every pick. It's a pity that professional GM's proudly declare Johnny's strategy as if it were groundbreaking. Then there are those, as previously mentioned, who always pick their posse first, regardless of talent (these captains won't win too many championships in their game of life, but they will have extremely loyal friends). And rarely, and amazingly, there were captains who picked terrible players, who weren't usually able to make the cut, out of some combination of empathy and pity. While this was a nice thing to do in retrospect, this strategy usually led to blowout defeats, which then set off a chain reaction of negative emotions for the kids on that losing team. If you ever wondered where the saying “damned if you do, damned if you don't” ever came from, well now you know. It's all quite complicated and stressful, and often too much for a kid to handle. Don't even get me started on those who were always picked last, well actually do get me started, because them scars can last decades. I mean, can you imagine being picked last every time teams are chosen, or not getting picked at all? Some of the more resilient children used that as fuel for the fire, motivating them to succeed above and beyond what they might have otherwise been capable of. Most, however, never recovered. Why haven't we developed some other way of choosing teams as kids? This is the 21st century! I just sent an email to my relative across the world from my iPad while I sat on my toilet taking a dump. There are more relevant advances that are needed in our society. Adults can be cruel too, but only if they are a**holes. Somehow, after all this, friendships and posses remained intact. Perhaps, it was survival instinct; we knew that we needed a group of friends to avoid bullying and that was more important than our place in the athletic hierarchy of the school or playground. I know after reading this you may be thinking I was likely one of the kids who was picked last, but I'm using a lot of guess work here. I was the captain, b**h. Every time.