COACH POINTS OUT TEAM’S FREE-THROW PERCENTAGES MORE CONCERNING THAN YEARBOOK TYPOS
COACH POINTS OUT TEAM’S FREE-THROW PERCENTAGES MORE CONCERNING THAN YEARBOOK TYPOS
SCRANTON, PA — Varsity basketball coach Tom Laskey has officially informed school administration that, while he appreciates the thoroughness of this year’s yearbook proofreading committee, his primary concern remains the team’s collective inability to convert free throws, sources confirmed Tuesday.
“I’m not saying the extra ‘e’ in sophomore isn’t important,” said Laskey, pausing mid-shuffle through his clipboard filled with color-coded missed free throw charts. “But we’re currently shooting 46 percent from the line. I’ve double-checked. Three times. With a calculator from the lost and found.”
According to internal program documents—specifically a spreadsheet labeled “FT Dread 2025”—the Wildcats have missed more free throws this season than the number of times “basketball” was spelled with a single ‘l’ in last year’s yearbook. Reports indicate that, at a recent staff meeting, Laskey attempted to submit a formal request for additional gym time under “typo prevention,” arguing that “consistent shooting form is the best spelling lesson there is.”
Assistant coach Janice Moran expressed mild skepticism. “I’m not sure the two issues are as directly related as he thinks,” Moran said, glancing at the team’s battered ball rack. “But if we were handing out superlatives, I guess ‘Most Likely to Miss Front End of a One-and-One’ would be accurate.”
Despite resistance from the English department, Laskey remains steadfast in his approach. “Look, fixing typos is important, but so is not losing to teams who practice in the lunchroom,” he said, rolling a foam roller over his left calf. He has already scheduled an emergency “Spelling & Swishing” clinic for next Saturday—pending availability of the gym and a working scoreboard.
COACH DOUBLES SECURITY ON TEAM BUS AFTER PRACTICE JERSEYS GO MISSING AGAIN
YUBA CITY, CA — Coach Eric Wilkins has ramped up security measures on the West Meadow High basketball bus this season, instituting what he describes as a “robust, coach-monitored chain of custody” for all team-issued practice jerseys after last week’s vanishing incident marked the third such disappearance since December.
“Accountability starts at the top,” Wilkins explained, gesturing to a clipboard with a neat column for each player’s mesh pullover. “From now on, jerseys won’t leave my line of sight. If that means hand-counting sweaty laundry bags before the bus pulls out, then so be it. I’m treating this like TSA handles checked luggage—except I actually care if something goes missing.”
The new protocol requires all players to place practice jerseys in a color-coded bin, which is then padlocked and signed for by both team managers, the JV assistant, and—per Wilkins’ memo—“a neutral third-party witness,” most often the custodian, Mr. Patel. The padlock key now lives on a lanyard that, according to players, Wilkins wears tucked under his team-issued windbreaker “even in the shower.”
Senior forward Lucas Grant expressed mixed feelings about the security upgrade. “On one hand, we definitely have fewer arguments about whose jersey is whose,” Grant said, noting the coach’s recent decision to mark each jersey with a Sharpie-coded dot system. “On the other, I didn’t realize practice gear could be considered a flight risk.”
Wilkins remains confident the new measures will “restore integrity” to the program. “If we can guard the ball with this much tenacity, we might even break .500 this year,” he added, confirming plans to extend the sign-out log to all pairs of team-issued socks by next Tuesday.
FACTBALL 3000
In 1987, the NBA briefly allowed teams to substitute their tallest player for the referee during timeouts, leading to a record 14-minute jump ball.
CHALKDUST AND TRUTH
On Responsibility:
One practice, I wrote all the positions on slips of paper and fed them to a goat named Responsibility. The next day, everyone played like they’d decided to take life seriously. We went 18 and 0 that season until the goat died.
TITLE: AMERICAN COURTSIDE’S EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH TED LASSO
Published: June 2025
Still riding high from Season 2’s critical acclaim and a fresh Emmy win for Jason Sudeikis, Ted Lasso’s titular coach has become something of a global cheerleader —singlehandedly raising the stock of both AFC Richmond and Apple TV+. We caught up with the mustachioed motivator to discuss transatlantic misunderstandings, the hazards of weaponized optimism, and why every corporation suddenly wants to be just like Ted.
American Courtside: Ted, Season 2 premiered to rave reviews and record viewers. How do you stay so upbeat with this much pressure?
Ted Lasso: Well, I treat reviews like I treat my Aunt Patty’s meatloaf: smile politely, swallow hard, and hope the next bite goes down easier. Pressure just makes the biscuits rise, partner.
American Courtside: Critics say your relentless positivity wouldn’t survive five minutes in a real locker room. Thoughts?
Ted Lasso: Oh, I’ve coached real folks —trust me, optimism’s like deodorant: works better when everyone uses it. But sometimes you gotta air out the room before you mask the stink.
American Courtside: The show’s often described as ‘the antidote to cynicism.’ Do you ever worry that feel-good branding is just a way for corporations to sell more streaming subscriptions?
Ted Lasso: You betcha. Nothing says “transformative empathy” like a limited-edition lunchbox, right? But hey, if kindness becomes a marketing gimmick, at least it beats selling folks on “grit-flavored” energy drinks.
American Courtside: What’s the biggest cultural misunderstanding you still face coaching in England?
Ted Lasso: I’ll never get over how “pants” means underwear here. Imagine my confusion at the team’s first kit fitting. Bless their hearts for not laughing —at least, not until I left the room.
American Courtside: Apple TV+ loves touting Ted Lasso as a beacon of hope. Do you ever feel like a mascot for corporate wellness?
Ted Lasso: Mascot? Heck, sometimes I feel like the office therapy dog —here for emotional support and occasional shedding. But I draw the line at fetching anyone’s coffee.
American Courtside: How would you handle a truly toxic teammate —someone positivity can’t fix?
Ted Lasso: Well, every garden’s got its weeds, but sometimes they’re just flowers with bad PR. I like to listen first. And if that don’t work, I recommend a transfer to a rival team.
American Courtside: Has British culture rubbed off on you, or are you just Americanizing the Premier League one “Howdy” at a time?
Ted Lasso: Oh, I’m practically 10% tea by now. But for every “cheers,” there’s a “y’all” —I figure cross-pollination keeps things interesting. I just wish they’d Americanize their dental plans.
American Courtside: Some say the show simplifies real-world problems into charming misunderstandings. Is that fair?
Ted Lasso: Life’s complex, sure. But if smoothing out the rough bits helps folks talk, laugh, or hug their dads, then I reckon that’s one misunderstanding I can live with.
American Courtside: What’s your advice to all the tech CEOs trying to Ted Lasso their way through the next shareholder call?
Ted Lasso: Remember: biscuit boxes are cheaper than severance packages, but sincerity can’t be outsourced to HR —no matter how many slides you put in the break room.
Coach B
Editor-in-Chief, BBCoachBlog
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