I was running errands on a Friday afternoon (my afternoon off), and my phone dinged with a text message. It was from one of my technicians, Angela. It said, “Our clinic just got signed up for donkey basketball. Get excited!” A number of feelings came to mind at that moment, but excited was not one of them. “This is what I get for taking an afternoon off,” I thought to myself. For those of you that don't know what donkey basketball is, it's exactly what you would imagine. It's playing basketball on a basketball court...while riding donkeys. It's an event that happens every once in awhile in our hometown, usually as a fundraiser for local FFA chapters. The FFA chapters of neighboring schools play each other, but there's also usually a local group made up of businesses or organizations. In the past, the Howard County Cattlemen's Association would play, but they had a hard time getting enough players under the weight limit. This is not a diss of the Cattlemen’s Association, just the truth. Donkeys are not meant to carry a large dude, so this is in no way a condemnation of the stereotypical steak eating cattleman you may picture. If that was the case, I wouldn’t be allowed to play either because I haven’t seen a vegetable in years. They’re mostly just stocky, tall men, but donkeys were made for petite women like myself (See what I did there? Just complimented myself when you thought I was taking up for the cattlemen. It’s my blog.). The thought of me trying to play basketball on a donkey was daunting. I got a flashback of the time I played little league basketball and scored...for the wrong team. Don't get me wrong. I was athletic in school. I was a competitive gymnast as a young girl. In middle school and high school, I ran track and field, qualifying for state every single year of high school. I ran cross country and track in college. I was even cheerleading captain in high school! However, I was and always have been a disaster at team sports or any sport involving a ball. Unless this game of donkey basketball involved chasing donkeys around the court or doing elaborate mounts and dismounts from the animals, I wasn't exactly going to be great at it. I can barely play basketball on my own two feet, let alone atop a donkey. I then decided that the crowds don't come to watch for a good game. They come to watch people embarrass themselves, which I was bound to do, so I was definitely the right pick for a good show. So as not to be embarrassed alone, I roped my husband into joining our team as well since he was athletic and under the weight limit. Hopefully he would pick up my slack. My husband suggested we buy a basketball to practice. “Why?” I asked. “We don't even have a basketball hoop.” He said, “I'm more concerned about you being able to pass the ball.” Fair enough. We arrived at our local high school an hour early for the rider meeting. The team would consist of me, my husband Patrick, my associate Dr. Potter (the one who signed us up for this thing), and two of my technicians, Robyn and Angela. The guy with Dairyland Donkeys went over all of the specifics with us. The rules were simple. You must maintain possession of your donkey at all times. You can get off and lead your donkey, but you must be on top of the donkey to shoot or pass. Most importantly, no abusing or mistreating the donkeys in any way. No kicking or pulling hair or tails (of your opponents or the donkeys). The donkey guru said there were a few donkeys that didn't move much, so if anyone wanted a donkey that didn't move, to let him know. He said, “The good news is, this young man has volunteered to ride the bucker,” as he gestured to a young cowboy from our hometown. The boy puffed up his chest and said, “I'm not coming off of that thing!” The donkey guru laughed and shook his head. You have to have at least one bucking donkey for donkey basketball for the entertainment aspect. We watched two of the FFA chapters play first. My husband volunteered to be the sanitation guy for the first game and grabbed the shovel. Maybe he thought that would get him out of playing. I sat in the stands and watched the entertainment while I held my son, paying close attention to which donkeys performed well and which didn't. The cowboy kid put in a valiant effort, but he was thrown from the bucker within about five seconds. Then it was time for us to play. We walked onto the court and grabbed our helmets. The girls on the team grimaced as we discovered the helmets were soaked in sweat from the previous game. Yuck! We toughed it out and selected our donkeys. My donkey was the smallest of the bunch. We mounted our donkeys and got to playing. We were playing Fayette FFA (our hometown). My donkey went right to trotting down the court and I thought for a second I had selected a good one. I got myself in just the right position under the basket to shoot when suddenly my donkey started veering sharply to the left. There was no steering this thing. The ball would bounce to the ground and suddenly all of us would jump off of our donkeys, pulling on the reins as hard as we could to get the stubborn things to move forward and retrieve the ball. I got a hold of the ball and started heading down the court. The young cowboy on the bucker started pushing and trying to get the ball away from me. I then employed my cross country defense tactics of throwing boney elbows his direction and it seemed to work. I was impressed at Angela’s ability to catch the ball and score. Robyn played solid defense. Dr. Potter and Patrick weren't Michael Jordan by any means, but they showed off their passing and shooting skills and helped lead us to victory in the first game. Me? Well, I was just an extra body on the court. We ended up tying with the Fayette team, which led to a free throw shootout. Whoever got the most free throws out of three attempts would win. We selected Dr. Potter to do the shooting for us. At 6’ 4”, he would at least be closer to the basket. The Fayette team selected the brave cowboy as their shooter. Both players made two out of three baskets, so it went to sudden death. The first person to make a free throw after that would win. The cowboy went first and missed the shot. Then it was Dr. Potter’s turn. We all held our breath as he dribbled and shot. Swoosh! The ball went in and the crowd went wild! Our clinic had a pretty good crowd of cheerleaders that showed up that night. We had won the first round! Then it was time to play the final game. Dr. Potter was tired from the first game and decided to sit out, so we subbed in Robyn. I switched from my tiny donkey that was impossible to steer to a taller one. Patrick got selected to ride the “bucker in training,” which was worth double points. We would be playing New Franklin FFA. We lined up, mounted our donkeys, and started playing. This new donkey steered better, but didn't want to move. I was constantly smacking the donkey on the butt as I rode, and I was hoping the donkey guru wouldn't consider that abuse. I didn't make any baskets either game. I did actually catch and pass the ball a few times, which was enough to make me feel okay about my participation. Patrick ended up making several baskets, so the double point donkey worked out in our favor. We lead the whole game and won it 12-8. We were officially crowned the Donkey Basketball Champions of Howard County! My husband said, “I kind of feel guilty showing up and beating high school kids.” I said, “Really? I don't!” But then again, I'm a competitive jerk. Ha! Jokes aside, it was certainly a fun activity and great opportunity to laugh at yourself for a good cause. I was thankful my staff has better basketball skills than I do, but I don't think any of us will be quitting our day job anytime soon. If there was such a thing as professional donkey basketball, we’d be the Harlem Globetrotters of the Midwest for sure, so yes, we’d quit or day jobs in a second for that, but for now we’ll just have a good memory to look back on. Life is too short to take yourself seriously, so might as well get on a donkey and try not to look like the ass.
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Jessica Stroupe, DVM
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August 2017
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