Assembly Hall in Champaign has housed some ugly basketball over the past two years. All the memories have run together into one, big mental eyesore. Bricked shots, turnovers, shot clock ticking down. Dear God, the SHOT CLOCK IS TICKING DOWN…

The list goes on.

I think it’s fair to call it ugly. I’ve seen enough in my years to know what does and what does not give me headaches. But that doesn’t mean I’m pointing the finger at anyone. I don’t want to dish out blame because, truth be told, if there was a list of “Ugly Champaign Basketball performances since 2011”, my name would be on the top of the list.

I’m not being metaphorical or deep or analyzing the role of the fan or anything like that. I literally took the floor at Assembly Hall last season and put on the worst display of basketball these poor people have seen in two years.

It happened a little over a year ago on Jan. 22, 2012, when Illinois hosted Wisconsin. 

In the game, the Illini were pulling their usual punches. They scored a bit, the Badgers scored as well, the game was hard to watch and at halftime, the score was tied. Then I took the floor.

I was the lucky fan chosen to take part in the halftime show. I was the entertainment.

If you’re a regular at the House of ‘Paign, then you’ve seen the contest before. It’s a free throw competition between one fan and one blindfolded Illini player. The Illinois player had already shot during the team’s last practice and a recorded version of his effort is shown on the video screen while the fan shoots in front of the live crowd and tries to keep up.

I needed to make more free throws than the blindfolded Illinois player to win. The prize: $100, I believe for groceries. My competitor: Tyler Griffey. As I walked onto the floor, almost immediately after the two teams trotted off to their locker rooms, all this information was announced.

I stood on the free throw line, facing the player entrance and the hoop I was about to shoot at. Under the hoop stood two athletic department workers each holding a basketball — my two rebounders. They were rehearsing the rules of the game with me one last time. “Wait until he counts down, wait until we pass you the ball, wait…” they said, but the voice of the PA announcer drowned them out.

Ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention to the court where we have JACK … then I tuned him out. First I thought the basket looked pretty close for a Big Ten free throw. Then I just looked around at the orange in the stands. Illinois only had one sell-out last season. I don’t know if it was that game versus Wisconsin, but from my view on the court, there wasn’t even Standing Room Only available.

5…4…

The rebounders passed me a ball.

3…

I dribbled and tried to look like a skilled basketball player.

2…1…GO!

I shot. Good knee bend, good release, good follow through and the ball was headed right where I wanted it to go. It arched over the front of the rim, tapped the back iron, and…rattled out. No good.

Twenty-six seconds left. Plenty of time. I took the next pass, looked up and shot again. Off the front of the rim.

Next pass, next shot, no good. Then another miss. And another miss. And another.

Above me, Tyler Griffey’s performance was being shown, but I couldn’t see it. I didn’t know what was happening. From watching the contest at other times, I knew that the game show buzzer meant the Illinois player was missing his shots. But on the court, it sounded like the scoreboard was honking at me to make a damn shot already.

Another shot, miss. Again and again, miss. I was taking the passes and shooting as fast as I could. The crowd around grew louder, not with encouragement.

The rebounders are hectically chasing my misses through their laughter. They’re passing quickly, often without looking. During one shot, a rebounder blindly passed to the free throw line and pelted me in the stomach mid-release. Miss.  

The crowd gets even louder. I don’t know how many I’ve missed, but I know exactly how many I have made. I shoot another brick. The crowd grows louder, still. The final countdown begins.

5…4…3…

I take a deep breath and steady myself. Just make one. Just make one lousy free throw. I grab the ball, bend my knees and shoot.

Air ball.

The buzzer sounds and the crowd erupts. Boos, jeers, yells, laughs, everything. I pulled my shirt over my face. One of the rebounders walked up to me, put his hand on my back and said, “Hey, it’s all right,” further reminding me that it was definitely not all right. Another worker walked up to me with a look of That was awful, I am so sorry and a consolation prize: a Bruce Weber signed basketball and an Illini football t-shirt.

Tyler Griffey had made one shot. Only one. If I would have made one, they would have still given me the $100. But I didn’t care about the money. The dream of not missing every shot in front of a sold-out crowd and poetically air-balling the final chance would have been prize enough.

The jeering didn’t end when I crossed the sideline. I still had to walk back to my seat. The older crowd lining the A Section stairs was like the two old farts from the Muppets. “You couldn’t make one?!” “He was blindfolded!” “AIRBALL!” One middle-aged man with his two sons just ironically clapped.

My phone was exploding with a constant vibrate. Every text message was “Oh my God,” or, “hahahaha!” Back at my seat, my friends were in stitches.

And the moment did not die easily. Late in the game, a Wisconsin player air-balled a free throw. The nearest usher abandoned his post the second the ball hit the floor, walked over to me, leaned in and said: “Hey, kid. You aren’t the only one who can airball a free throw.”

Maybe I’m getting off easy saying that it was the worst Assembly Hall basketball performance of only the past two years.

Jack is a senior in LAS. He can be reached at [email protected]. Follow him on Twitter @JCassidy10.