The SERF is Madison's version of an athletic melting pot that brings together people from all walks of life for various reasons. It provides an array of options that caters to just about every individual on campus.
The one activity I partake in most often is basketball, as I and other washed-up high school players battle daily in hopes of regaining some pride in our ability on the court. Though I now struggle to play more than three consecutive games, I always feel a small sense of rejuvenation after playing at the SERF.
Yet this whole experience can be instantly shattered.
It's not the kid that shoots too much or the guy with the hairy back that sweats profusely. It's not the 50-year-old dude with the goggles, the trash-talker or your own teammate that fails to guard anyone.
The one player that ruins my day, is of course, the girl.
Short shorts, cut-off shirt referencing a high school girl's basketball camp, hair in a ponytail, a sports bra and possibly even a knee brace.
Soon it is apparent that for the next 11 points, you will be assigned to guard this basketball vixen and all the unorthodox follies that she bring to the court.
The dance between male and female in a basketball game at the SERF can only lead to disaster for the male. In a match-up as uncomfortable as a 7th-grade school dance, you realize you have fallen into a no-win situation.
From my experience and observation of past classic battles, you are inevitably left with two options:
1) Try you're hardest to destroy her both physically and mentally. Block her shot and stare her down if possible. Box her out and give her a quick elbow to the face, and deliver a Princeton style back-door cut that will shatter her ankles. Attempt to score every single point, preferably off her turnovers.
Or...
2) Fake a slight ACL tear and call it a day.
You only have two options, because a comfort zone between the two fails to exist. If you elect to loosen up against her and let her score a few points here and there, you are going to get those looks from your teammates, and you are going to hear about it later that night.
And here is some advice for the guy who tries his hardest to unveil his full arsenal of ability when a girl shares: don't bother. Your efforts go unnoticed, as the girl is usually preoccupied attempting to dribble with her left hand.
So for all the pre-WNBA stars out there, until we construct your own court with your own lighter balls and 8-foot hoops, I recommend following other pursuits. For example, become the first woman engineer on Madison's campus or follow in the tradition of Colorado's Katie Hnida and become a placekicker for Barry Alvarez. Both are highly-respected positions on campus.
I'm aware that I'm taking this to the extreme and may be a touch out of line here. But to my lovely female audience, if you take anything away from this bit of text, please be aware of our perplexing situation.
We know you can handle your own on the court and you probably do know the rules of basketball.
Nevertheless, you are forcing us to watch every move, gesture, hand placement and comment that comes out of our mouth until you leave the building.
It's an unwritten law that we don't enter your \fitness"" and ""spin"" classes, and in return, you stay away from our court. But I understand that a select few from both genders didn't get the memo.
So let's not a let a few stubborn people destroy what is often a very enjoyable experience. I'll give you fitness in return for basketball, and we can walk our separate ways until we meet again on neutral ground.
And remember, Madison girls are poor basketball players. Just ask Lisa Stone.
Jon is junior majoring in love and basketball, e-mail him at jrmcnamara@wisc.edu.
