How to shut up a heckler

Short version: just flat out beat the snot out of his team. Long version to follow...

In my younger years, I was a part of the pep band at GC&SU... alright, stop your laughing. Stop thinking of the weenie looking folks in the stands at a high school game that would like to be anywhere but there. Ours was all voluntary - you weren't in unless you wanted to be in.

We were the proverbial sixth man on the floor. We were loud. We were raucous. On more than one occasion, we were warned. Then we got louder.

Some shenanigans:

• By the time the opposing players left, they were not happy with the fact that their names, majors, what year they were and where they were from were printed on the program. It only took one missed dunk or airball for the phrase, "Give Bob the ball - he'll show you where the floor is!" or "Hey Eddie - the girl's game was earlier!"
  
• Immediately following a missed free-throw, one band member stated, loudly: "Hey Anna - remember when your mother said you could do anything you wanted? She was wrong!" The entire arena laughed, including the opposing coach.
• We made an opposing player cry. He gave us the bird. We gave him crap.
• During free throws for the women's game, one band member unrolled a large poster of a barely clothed well ripped male (we had a lady in a bikini poster for the men's game). During one particular women's game, the lady kept making the shots. During her next attempt, we displayed the girlie poster. She missed.

This past weekend was alumni weekend at our dear ol' alma mater. Apparently, one needn't graduate to be considered an alumnus. Anyway, in years past the alumni activities would take place outside of basketball season, thus a gathering of the old guard could not take place. This time, though, the stars and planets aligned correctly.

It didn't quite work out as planned.

For starters, the current basketball team blows. They started the 2nd quarter with a nice little run, but then pulled off their best impersonation of the Hellen Keller All Star B-ball team (translation: they couldn't hit a basket to save their lives). The other team (ranked 10th overall in the conference), hit whatever they wanted, when, and how they wanted. I think I actually heard them calling shots as they came down the court.

To add insult to injury, in the program guide was a listing for their number 14 - from France. And he was good.

Stupid French.