Chillin with your favorite sports stars

Sometimes, I’ll watch Kobe Bryant play basketball and turn to my roommates, and say “Dude. He is so cool. Seriously. Just watch him. Look how cool he is. Did you see that jumper? What a guy.”

I’m obsessed with sports, and even more obsessed with sports stars. If you’re good at the sport you play, you’re automatically a great person, and I want to hang out with you. I’d like to get ice cream with you. I would like to see a movie with you, and talk about music with you. Do you like Fall Out Boy, Michael Jordan? What’s that? You think they’re a ‘hand-full of soft-backed p***ies, and want to play them 1-on-1, loser dies?’ You’re so cool, Michael Jordan.

I’m so obsessed with sports, that I fantasize about what it’d be like to hang out with my favorite sports stars. Here are my fantasies:

Tim Tebow:

Tim Tebow and I would walk to class, and everyone would be like, “hey, Tim, what’s up man?” Then he’d be like “God bless you” and touch them, then they’d turn to gold, or chocolate, or a football. I’d be a little jealous at first, because everyone likes Tim more, and all my friends are now golden chocolate footballs, but then he’d say turn to me, make direct eye contact in a very purposeful manner and say “thank you” when I pass him a worksheet in class. You’re the best, Tim.

Ray Lewis:

In reality, being Ray Lewis’s friend would get old really fast. Sure, the first time he face-punches you and calls you a ‘wet-noodle’ when you’re curling 20’s in the weight room would be sort of endearing. But, when he tackles you in Goudy after you grab a cinnamon roll, while screaming “POISON! POISON!” you’d be like, alright Ray. Enough. Chill, bro.

LeBron James:

You and LeBron would form a really great, lifelong relationship. But, LeBron would meet another friend with higher social status and a greater chance of winning a championship. This friends name will probably be South Beach, or Heat. At first, you wonder who is named “South Beach,” but then, there will be a humiliating TV special detailing why you aren’t as cool as Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh still looks like a dinosaur. Peace, LeBron.

Blake Griffin:

Do you want to live in fear? You’re a masochist? Blake’s the guy for you. Watch your head.

Eli Manning:

Most. Boring. Friend. Ever.

Steve Nash:

Have you seen the Vitamin Water commercials? Numerous times, I have searched the inter-webs, in pursuit of Steve Nash’s personal email. I want him to come over so badly, and eat whole grain crackers with humus while we talk about the solar system. I feel like Steve Nash would be down to talk about the Solar System.

Tom Brady:

Would seem cool, until your girlfriend leaves you for him, and you go through a weird “being a Jets fan” phase. You’ll overcome.

Kobe Bryant:

He’d probably do that weird sniffle thing he does where he looks like he’s trying to itch his nose without using his hands. You’d look past that, but when he makes the “Kobe-Face” and scores 81 points on you, it’d become embarrassing to walk around campus with him. If he buys you a diamond-plated friendship bracelet, resume friendship. We want pre-nup!

Shaq:

If Shaq did not eat you, he would be an awesome friend. If he ate you, he’d probably still be hungry afterwards.

Any Portland Trail Blazer:

They’re not as fun as you think, Oregon Sports Fans. My friend saw Gerald Wallace at a Taco Bell one time, and he was like, “thanks, it was a good win” before he ordered a Mexican Pizza. Who does that? Also, if I hear another person say Raymond Felton doesn’t look like a big-toe, or that they think Jamal Crawford’s weird alien head is cute, and that he’s the best 4th quarter-closer in the game, I am going to vomit. Go Lakers.

You Know You're a D3 Athlete When:

The life of a Division 3 athlete isn’t a glorious one. And by “isn’t glorious,” I mean “pretty shitty.” We don’t get athletic scholarships, we are, by most accounts, less athletic than our sport requires, making the whole running, jumping, moving-quickly-thing kind of difficult. We get hardly any fans, and even our friends and family aren’t sure they want to come to our games. When your mom tells you that you’re slow and boring, you know you’re a D3 athlete. It’s not all bad, though. . . we get a really good education, and get funny articles written about us in the newspaper. Check it out.

You know you’re a division 3 athlete when:

-You weren’t the best player on your high school team.

-You were the best player on your high school team. That won 3 games in the 1A classification of Montana’s Cowboy Hat League.

-The trainers keep a running tab for all the athletic tape you’ve used over the years.

-Your total is $57.50

-Tuition is $57,000

-A year.

-You:”Sorry I was late to practice, Coach, dissecting an armadillo is far more time consuming and intricate than I had previously assumed!”

Coach: “No problem, did you ever calculate the velocity at which you need to throw the ball in order to get us a god-damn touchdown this weekend?”

You: “Why, yes. Yes I did. I’ll give you the spreadsheet.”

-''W-ill-a-mette? That sounds like a mountain. Is it a mountain? I'm pretty sure that's a mountain.''

- You still sort of operate under the assumption that you’re a big time athlete. This is evident by your incessant Facebook posting about your game tonight, and your Twitter feed. Insert hash-tag-joke here.

- You listen to Bon Iver on your warm-up mix. Or Childish Gambino, because he’s the only rapper “intellectual enough” to pump you up.

- You play in an intramural league in the offseason, and you aren’t that much better than the other students playing.

- This doesn’t stop you from being overly competitive, sweaty, probably having some sort of offensive chest hair, insisting on being “skins” every time, and yelling at everyone. “HELPSIDE! D! BALL, BALL, BALL! WHO’S GOT SHOOTER?”

- People don’t want to be on your intramural team.

- Everyone has this story: “In high school, I played against “_____” and held my own. We got destroyed, but I played really well. “____” is overrated. I am underrated.”

- That one time you get to play against a big D1 school, you always walk away from it saying “they’re not that good” and “we could have competed with them.”

-Your mom might agree.