Gringo Bonito @GringoBonika - Twitter Profile

I hit the gym for a late night pump after an intense day of working to promote tourism to President Trump’s America. After a vigorous lifting session with some male friends, I was on my way out when I heard two females discussing the Enes Kanter Freedom incident while shooting around on the basketball court. “Did you see that former NBA guy got kicked out of the Sky game last night?” said Jamelle, a tall African American woman. “Yeah, I did,” replied Steph, who was sporting a short blonde bob with a streak of purple mixed in. “I love seeing bigots thrown out of sporting events.” I needed a cool down after my workout, so I strode to the other side of the court and grabbed a ball. I spent the next several minutes draining three after three, catching the attention of the two ladies, who stopped playing to watch the poetry in motion of my shooting stroke. “Not bad for a man,” Jamelle shouted out after I hit a 30’ fadeaway. “I’d like to see you try that shot with me defending you, though.” “Ladies,” I replied with a slight chuckle. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. We all know men don’t belong in women’s sports.” “Shut up, bigot,” Steph fired back aggressively, “I can beat any man, any time. Let’s go right now. 1v1.” I started to shake my head, but then paused for a moment. “Look, sweetheart,” I said with a sigh. “I won’t play you 1-on-1… I’ll take you both on. Let’s go. First to 11. Make it, take it. No fouls.” They looked at each other and nodded. “Game on.” Being the gentleman I am, I let them take the ball first. I crouched down, slammed my palms on the floor, and locked in. They passed the ball around, trying to bait me into overcommitting, but I stood my ground. Steph made a strong pass to a Jamelle as she cut towards the basket from the wing. I could see the play developing out of the corner of my eye, so I pivoted to cut her off at the rim. I timed it perfectly and gave myself an easy look to block Jamelle’s shot, but I played the percentages and decided to let her miss the layup and position myself for the rebound. Unsurprisingly, she missed her layup, and I easily moved Steph out of the way and grabbed the board. I brought the ball back and considered my option. The girls had decided to play some sort of a zone defense on me, rather than confront my physicality and try to smother me. Their mistake. I backed them both down, methodically and powerfully, planted my foot in the ground, and hit a fadeaway 15 footer to open things up. After my third dominant post move in a row, they finally decided to respect my inside game and give me a cushion, which was my green light to rain down shots from beyond the arc with the precision of a tomahawk missile. A few minutes later, the game was over. I won 11-0. The ladies were exasperated by the dominance they had just experienced, but were graceful in defeat. “Ladies, did we learn anything tonight?” I said with a twinkle in my eye after we exchanged handshakes. “Yeah,” Steph said, her voice trailing off. “I guess… maybe men don’t belong in women’s sports…” Jamelle said with a defeated tone. “Good on ya, Jam,” I said. “Good on ya.”

175

1K

75

120

247K

0

14