Has ImageFeeling the pressure at Flathead 3-on-3

By Zach Urness

From the Bleachers

My favorite writer of all time, Ernest Hemingway, famously wrote that "courage is grace under pressure."

That quote seemed appropriate as my name was called over a loudspeaker last Saturday night, bidding me out in front of a massive throng of people gathered for the 3-point shoot-out finals.

Now I am fairly sure that Hemingway was thinking of something slightly more existential than jump-shots when he wrote that quote, but as I nervously made my way to the first rack of orange and white basketballs, I was willing to overlook such details for just a little bit of grace.

Because the 3-point contest is one of the most nerve-wracking and pressure filled exhibitions I've ever been a part of.

The thing about the shoot-out is that it's a lot less like basketball and a lot more like golf. You're thrown out there cold, you have to focus mainly on your form, and are given just 15 shots and 60 seconds (which actually feels like an eternity) to find a rhythm and out-duel your opponents in a test that is just as much about mental toughness as it is about shooting touch.

Things did not begin well. On my first shot I bent my knees, cocked the ball in front of my right eye, jumped straight up, followed through with a perfect snap of the wrist and lofted up a beautiful … air ball. My second shot didn't fare much better, narrowly grazing the left side of the rim and the third shot went in-and-out.

At this point I was worried. Winning the contest was completely gone from my mind. All I wanted at this point was to make one shot. "Be merciful, God!" I pleaded internally. "I swear to adopt orphans, save puppies and get my butt to Church every Sunday if you just save me from this embarrassment."

Whether the man upstairs was listening or not I'll leave to the theologians, but my fourth shot slid mercifully through the rim. Unfortunately the Lord's mercy didn't hold and my next shot was another air ball.

The frustrating thing is that 3-pointers have always been my bread and butter, and with nobody watching in the preliminary round I hit 10-of-15 without breaking a sweat.

But there is just something about being encircled by a massive crowd at various levels of intoxication that makes you nervous. And I suspect most of them would have just as happy to see me toss up a pile of bricks as hit my shots because, in reality, they weren't even that interested in the first place.

The 3-point shoot-out is really just the opening act for the slam dunk contest, kind of like that random band you've never heard of who opens up for Snoop Dogg or the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

That point was made all the more obvious later that night. High-flying and often shirtless ballers defied gravity with ally-oop and 360 degree tomahawk dunks that continually inspired 'oooohs' and 'ahhs' from the crowd.

Las Vegas import Sam Riddle made things even more interesting by wooing cute little kids and pretty girls to stand under the basket before soaring over them with monster dunks. For his encore he even brought his sister's car out onto the court and hurdled it for a rim-rocking dunk. Unfortunately for the sister, Mr. Riddle got greedy, and while attempting to jump the car lengthwise he shattered her rear windshield, prompting a loud cheer from the crowd and ensuring that all of his prize money ($400) would be spent on auto repair.

With that kind of show, what exactly is a 3-point shooter to do? Loft up hook shots from beyond the arc? Throw out candy in between shots? Bring out the Polson cheer team to make an impromptu pyramid and shoot over them?

Sadly, all the cute kids, pretty girls and even shattered windshields couldn't make the crowd overly interested in the classic art of 3-point shooting.

But that didn't mean it wasn't nerve wracking. Thankfully, about halfway through my 3-point exhibition I remembered how to shoot and made seven out of my final nine shots, good enough for second place.

As I left the court I smiled and waved at the crowd. A few old ladies clapped in response.

It certainly wasn't "grace under pressure," but I'll take it.