You know, that phrase “as police basketball” really gets me thinking. It ain’t about actual cops playing hoops, not for me anyway. It’s more like that feeling when you’re trying to do something, something good or even just fun, and bam! Suddenly it feels like every move is being watched, every pass is over-analyzed, and the refs are just itching to blow the whistle on you for breathing.
That Community Gig… Man, It Felt Just Like That
I remember this one time, a few years back, I got this bright idea to organize a small neighborhood get-together. Just a simple thing, really. Some games for the kids, maybe a barbecue, get folks chatting. I was pretty pumped about it, thought it’d be great for everyone. Got a couple of neighbors on board, and we started sketching out ideas.
Then the “enforcement” showed up. Not literal police, but you know the type. The local homeowners’ association board, a couple of folks who think they run the street. Suddenly, trying to plan a simple Saturday afternoon thing turned into a bureaucratic marathon. It was like trying to play a casual game of pickup basketball, but someone swapped the ball for a brick and hired a full NBA referee crew to call every tiny infraction.
We wanted to set up a couple of folding tables for snacks. Oh boy. First, we needed to submit a “formal request.” Then, we had to specify exactly what snacks. Then, we got a lecture about potential allergies and “liability.” I was like, seriously? For a few bags of chips and some cookies?
And the “approved locations” for anything…
- The small patch of grass we picked for a three-legged race? “Potential damage to the sprinkler system,” they said. Even though the sprinklers hadn’t worked in years.
- Putting up a simple banner? “Needs to meet aesthetic guidelines,” which apparently no one had ever seen written down but everyone on the board had a different opinion on.
- Even the timing was an issue. “Can’t clash with Mrs. Henderson’s nap time,” apparently.
It felt less like we were trying to bring people together and more like we were applying for a high-security government clearance. Every tiny step was a battle. My initial excitement just kinda shriveled up. We spent more time arguing in emails and trying to decipher vague “rules” than actually planning anything fun. It was like being on a basketball team where the coach from the other team is also the ref, and they keep changing the rules mid-game just to see you sweat.
What started as a simple idea to have a good time became this heavy, frustrating slog. A couple of the folks who were initially excited just faded away. Can’t blame them. I almost quit myself, probably three or four times. I’d just sit there thinking, why does it have to be this hard to do something nice? It was pure “police basketball” – all control, no flow, no fun.
In the end, we did have a small gathering. But it was way smaller, way more restricted, and honestly, a lot less joyful than I’d hoped. It was like we’d played the whole game with the “police” breathing down our necks, and we were just glad when the whistle blew to end it. We were too worn out to even celebrate the few good moments.
So yeah, “as police basketball.” That’s it for me. It’s when the system, the rules, or just plain old busybodies take something that should be simple and enjoyable and strangle all the life out of it with needless control. It just makes you want to drop the ball and walk off the court.