My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇺🇸

5 members · TeamBranch

Season Journal

Standings

Pre-season

Good evening everyone and fasten your seatbelts because tonight we are not doing this gently. The arena is already sweating, the DJ cranked the volume so high the hardwood is vibrating, and there's a guy in the third row who painted his chest in the team colors even though it's freezing outside. That's devotion. That's basketball madness. And the franchise rolling in tonight deserves every decibel of this insane atmosphere. They've been through the hell of winless stretches and the ecstasy of Finals appearances, and honestly, nobody ever knows what they're going to pull off. That's what makes this sport so damn beautiful. The team with no name, baby! There's one guy on this team who scares the living hell out of everyone. Opponents, coaches, referees, even his own teammates sometimes. That's Shaquille O'Neal. Standing at 216 cm, shoulders like a linebacker, and a touch on the ball so soft it makes you want to cry. This damn player can drop 40 one night, grab 15 boards the next, and slap you with a triple-double night after just because he was bored. The kind of guy you want on your squad and pray you never have to face. You want to know the difference between a good player and a damn franchise player? It's the fourth quarter. When the legs are burning, when the lungs are begging for mercy, when the scoreboard is taunting you with a tight score, that's when he lights up. Like a diesel engine finally hitting its temperature. The first three quarters are the warm-up. The fourth quarter is his hunting ground. And the prey? It's the teams that thought they had a chance. Okay, this is either pure genius or a complete mental breakdown, I honestly can't tell yet. The wild card, the stroke of brilliance or insanity depending on how many beers you've had, is that the coach decided to pull a move never before seen in league history: he signed Donald Trump, his brother-in-law and a film producer by trade, on a ten-day contract. The guy showed up to the bench wearing a bucket hat, carrying their loaded checkbook and a cooler, surrounded by 7-foot giants who weigh three times as much. Apparently the coach's theory is that if Donald Trump can place a basketball with the same precision he uses for the risky picture to "bullseye" the opposing center's head, we've got the play of the century. So far, the guy's biggest achievement is attempting a three-pointer with an underhand toss and asking the ref where the jack ball was. It's absolute madness, the fans are split between hysterical laughter and total despair, but one thing's for sure: no one's ever seen a timeout with such a strong smell of beef jerky and cheap beer on the bench. The budget is simple: it's not a budget anymore, it's a manifesto. The owner said "I don't give a damn about consequences" and he proved it. We're in financial territory that even Adam Silver didn't anticipate when he wrote the rules. Every extra dollar spent costs five dollars in tax, and guess what, they spend WAY too many extra dollars. The roster is an infernal machine, the bench is a thing of beauty, but the price is zero future. No picks, no possible trades, no plan B. It's the championship or a wall at 200 miles per hour. There is no middle ground.

My Team finishes #2, a fantastic season! 12W-3L. Season MVP: Shaquille O'Neal.