Hobos, tramps and bums congregated around oil barrel braziers belching out toxic fumes from whatever garbage had been gathered during the day.  The flat open ground was punctuated (fortunately) by a basketball hoop.  Chuck turned up with a tin of paint to mark out lines and some chains to make a net.  He dropped a ball through it and it gave a satisfying clink.  Job done.

There was a faint smell of stale urine in the area that clung to the back of the throat, leaving a definite taste to everything after a while. 

Chuck gathered some people around and stood up tall…all 6ft 5 of him…he towered over most of the people.

Hey dummies, following the phenomenal success of my three point challenge in Seattle, I bring it here to the most industrious of cities…ladies and gentlemen I give you

Detroit Pissed-On Court

Take on Street Beef in a three point challenge. The rules were pinned to the fence behind the hoop

Go out, tell all of your friends that this is where they need to be.  Beat me, win a million.  Don’t beat me then please leave a little tip for my exertions.  West likes me to kick up a little every now and then and I can’t be bothered with the hassles of actual crime when I can take dummies to the cleaners.

A voice piped up

But Chuck, you’re not all that good at three pointers are you?

Chuck looked Chyna up and down.  She had enormous muscles for a woman, he’d seen big women back in San Antonio but they were churro big not steroid big.

That may be the case but I get paid to be good at this, you get paid for…goodness knows what.  Roll on up dummies and try to relieve me of my million.

He was a used car salesman - but with enough booze - Jackmalloy thought that he was on top of the world.  What the fuck....

He picked up a ball off of the rack and fired a chest pass at Charles_barkley . He caught it without missing a beat and squeezed the ball so hard between his hands that he deflated it.

"Uh.... I'm in?" Jack asked him as he drank his whisky.

Chuck looked up when somebody approached, he had never come across Jackmalloy before but a car salesman could always be a good person to know. 

You wanna take on Street Beef then step right up. Don’t mind the smell of pee around here, you do get used to it. 
 

Chuck let Jack go first. It was a nervy start, Jack only managed one and even then it was one that bobbled around the rim. The second rack was a lot better but the last two found ways not to go in just bouncing too hard off the back of the hoop. The perils of not being 6 ft 5 Chuck thought. 4 points off two racks worked well to start. 
Rack 3 was where Jack really came into his own; clink, clink, clink, clink but clang. 

Whoa, whoa, whoa 

Bert the bum who had been watching for feet staying outside the line hauled Jack back. One of his shots had been just inside the line. Chuck sighed and Jack looked like he was about to explode. 
 

What are you on about? 

Line judge rules. It’s not a three point shot if you’re not behind the line. 

This rattled Jack but his rhythm stayed strong for his last two racks hitting three each in both. 
 

Jackmalloy scores 13. 

Chuck knew what needed to be done but the sweat from the nerves got to him, only making the last shot moneyball on the first rack. It still put him a point ahead. 
He made sure he was at least six inches behind the line at all times, he drained one and the moneyball in the second rack. Thank god for the moneyball he thought to himself. He was not hitting his stride at all. Still one up. 
Third rack, he kept up his inconsistent efforts...miss one, sink one, miss one, sink one but no moneyball to save him this time. It was back to all square and the sweat kept dripping. 

Here, pass me a towel Bert. 
 

Bert passed a cleanish towel and Chuck set up for the fourth. He swished in the first three and was feeling good but he he sweat started dripping in his eyes and the muscle memory still wasn’t there. 
 

Going into the last rack, he had to make three of two and the moneyball. He’d not hit one since the second rack. Five shots stood between him and losing a million he barely had. The tension was unbearable:

Shot one - clink. Here we go Chuck thought. 
Shot two - clang. The noise echoed around the buildings. Everyone had gone quiet at the prospect of Chuckster losing. 
Shot three - clang. The quiet turned into a murmur as it was all coming down to the last two shots. The bums wanted to say they were there when Sitting Charles was beaten. 
Shot four - clang. The murmur loudened as more bums and hobos joined in. The moneyball has to be made or Chuck was a million bucks lighter. 
Shot five - the ball sailed towards the hoop and almost like a slow motion movie it rattled around before there was a definite clink. 
 

Chuck was relieved. 

Hell yeah. Get in. Take that dummies. 

He shouted at the bums and hobos. 
 

Chuck 13 Jackmalloy 13. 
 

Good going Jack. Shame you just stood in the line. That was way too close for comfort. 
 

Chuck nodded at the “Help the hobos” bucket in the corner where some donations had already been left. 

Chuckster jumped into a limo to take him back to the airport. Just before it started to pull away he wound the window down and shouted for Bert the bum to come over. 
Hey man. I need to go back home. If you see Evelina looking for a quick game or if Chyna is breaking someone’s face round here you get me back here pronto. You hear me?

The limo drove off. He’d have to tell Tops and West that there were opportunities to win the million in Detroit too. 

Tops got informed by Charles_Barkley that there was 1 million dollars for grabs in Detroit. He really hoped this time it would be bet, but as he came closer to the Pissed-On-Court, he realized it would.. Again.. include those unfamiliar inflated items that lacked six flattened sides..

But he wasn't one to evade challenges..

Well, Charles_Barkley. I am ready!

Chuckster flew in on Flyman Airways having been summoned by his good friend Tops.  His other good friend Evelina did not summon him anywhere and a venue that smelled of wee was not going to entice West or Grin-07.  Tops was in his element here in the urine soaked “arena”, surrounded by down and outs who had lost their homes and jobs due to debilitating gambling addictions.

What’s up dummy?  You here again to take on Street Beef?

Chuck winked to Bert the bum to keep an eye on the feet again.

The flight had knocked Chuck for sixers.  He was all over the place to start with.  He should have let Tops go first but the confidence gained by not losing to all these people was starting to play tricks with him.  He hadn’t noticed Tops chatting to Gusteau the fat hobo who was sitting on some of the basketballs.

The first rack was awful for Chuck.  He made nothing, not one basket.  Tops on the other hand was majestic. Everything was going in or bouncing kindly off the rim.  Had he not tried to do the last one left handed he’d probably have made all his attempts.  Check looked at Bert who shrugged.  Chuck 0 Tops 4

The second rack was even stevens.  Tops clinked three and Chuck got one and his moneyball.  Chuck looked at the balls Tops was using.  There seemed something a little off with them but he couldn’t put his finger on it and it was rattling him.  Chuck 3 Tops 7

Chuck struggled in the third rack.  He kept looking at the balls Tops had.  Chuck only got his moneyball in again but Tops managed to clink one in.  Chuck 5 Tops 8

Gusteau got off a couple of the balls and handed them to Tops after Chuck had sunk three in succession.  The same happened again.  Lucky bounces.  Where Chuck's would bounce off, Tops’ just seemed to bounce a little and still go in. Chuck 8 Tops 11.

Chuck rued going first as he was still distracted by the oddities.  He regained his composure to sink the moneyball but it wouldn’t be enough.  Tops only popped one in.  But there he was winning 12-10

Chuck 10 Tops 12

Chuck was devastated  He called for Bert to pass a ball over while he went to get the million bucks.  The ball bounced between Bert and Chuck but then just rolled.

What the…???

Chuck checked all the balls.  Gusteau had been squeezing all the air out by sitting on them.  No wonder Tops was making all these fluky shots.

I demand a rematch.

Null And Void

Tops was delighted with his honest win when all of a sudden, Charles_Barkley demanded a re-match.

There was no reason for Tops to consider accepting the re-match.. But a bet was a bet and Tops was Tops, so he agreed.

All right, Charles, let's go again!

Gusteau was removed and sent out to the streets of Detroit to flag down participants and Chuck got back to business.

Rack one had Tops getting lucky.  Clink, clink, clink for the first three.  Clang, clang.  Chuck laughed and grabbed a ball.

Clang
Clang
Clang

Tops whispered something to Bert.  Chuckster felt his blood boiling.  Clink and clink with the moneyball.  Tops 3 Chuck 3

Rack two – Boo ya!  Chuck on fire…Tops done like a well cooked steak.  All that could be heard when Chuck rose to the occasion was clink, clink, clink.  He missed one and sunk the moneyball.  Tops started to wilt in front of the onslaught only managing two of his shots.  Tops 5 Chuck 8

Rack three was a nervy affair.  Chuck blamed the sunlight peeking over the buildings that was getting in his eyes.  He only made his moneyball.  Tops had no excuse, just a lack of skills.  They both only made one shot…just Chuckster’s was better.  Tops 6 Chuck 10.

Racks four and five were over quickly.  Sir Charles was on fire.  More clinks than an overcrowded prison and Tops was left holding nothing more than the memory of what might have been.

Tops 10 Chuck 20

Chuck shook Tops’ hand.

Feel free to try again anytime you like.

Grin-07 lifted an eyebrow as Tops departed with his tail between his legs. Cheating, deplorable behaviour. Grin would win honest or not at all. He pushed his way through the bums and beggars which trailed him anyway but congregated in large groups whenever Barkley played ball. 

How does. 

Chuck smiled. The great Grin-07 was gracing the Pissed-On court. This was an auspicious moment, had he had any notion of the auspiciousness of it all. The hobos, bums and tramps collectively drew in so much breath, those with diminished lung function coughed at the back. 

Sir Charles stood tall looking at the back of Tops departing the scene. 

Does good dummy.  You see those shenanigans then?  Let’s do this.  

The crowd hushed as the latest in the great lines of Grin took to the court. The smell of slightly fresher pee eked it’s way forward as the anticipation from the back of the court affected the more incontinent of the hobos. The glamour of the matchup caused Tops to turn round. Even Evelina had appeared to see her family’s protege take on the handsome all star. 

Chuck recognised the enormity of the situation and being the generous soul he was, allowed Grin-07 to go first. Chuckster checked each ball and had Bert the bum on hand to make sure there were no other shenanigans going on. Give a Grin an inch...and he’ll take an inch...such was the inscrutable honesty of the man. 

The first rack had to be put down to nerves for Grin.  He was way off; he threw to the left and he threw to the right. To be fair, the moneyball he got near the hoop went in but it was an ugly affair. Chuck, buoyed by his (eventual) demolition of Tops, rattled in three and a moneyball. Grin-07 2 Chuck 5

The second rack was better...for any watching opticians. In fairness, his first two went in but Grin demonstrates that good eyesight might be a boon to good aiming. Clang, clang, clang. It was a dismal sound. Chuck, in the style of every street ball bully didn’t give up. Even though he missed his first, the clink of each successful shot was like the sound of the first birds of spring. Grin-07 4 Chuck 10. 

Rack 3. This one was a shout out to drum tuners everywhere. The rhythmic reverberations of the missed shots were music to the ears of the tone deaf. One moneyball made it in, well two if you include Chuck’s but Grin was turning into Grimace-01. Chuck was on fire. Grin-07 6 Chuck 15. 

Rack 4 brought the city planning department. There was a demolition going on. Alerted to the constant clanging of ball against backboard and hoop they thought some illegal renovation was going on. They swelled the crowd as Chuck put on a show. This was all over bar the shouting really. Grin-07 8 Chuck 20. 

The misery was almost over by rack 5. Unable to win, all again could do was attempt to beat Tops’ paltry score but it was looking a tall order. Claang, clink, clang, clang and a final clink with the moneyball gave Grin a perfectly acceptable 11. Better than Tops’ legal effort and often enough to trouble Sir Charles but not tonight. Chuck made a special line 40ft away, as decreed by Tops and still made 3 points. 

Grin-07 11 Chuck 23

Chuck shook Grin’s hand. 

Good effort boss. You and Tops should shoot out one day. It couldn’t get worse for you. 

Tops felt as if he was summoned to turn around. So he did. He looked as the grin faded off the face of the newest challenger.

Poor Grin-07

Tops felt it was best to give him a pat on the shoulder as he dripped off, if it weren't for the mass of bodyguards telling him to keep 1m50 of distance. Tops got annoyed.

What? Why? I just want to support the fellow.. I am not Coughing!

As Grin-07 turned his head towards him, tops yelled

Don't worry! If you would have been fairly decent.. Hypothetically, you still couldn't have won, he probably would have called you Grin-24 and gave you 07 points anyhow!

Chuck bristled at the insinuation from his agent of all people that there might be something untoward with the scoring system.

Don't you worry Grin-07, Tops is just butt sore.

Sir Charles kicked a rack towards Tops.

Here you go hotshot, let's see what you've got.

Tops lined up his first shot.

Clang

His second

Clang

His third

Clang

The fourth one

Clang

The final one

Clang

With a full on Shaq Attack on the ring, Tops demonstrated his absolute dominance of the court.  Chuck spun it round to Grin-07

You can't do any worse than my agent.

Grin nailed his first and his second.  Chuck laughed heartily.

Chuck took a stroll down by the bums and vagrants again. The smell of the great unwashed was only matched by the stench of stale pee again, he looked around for Bert the hobo who had fast become a celebrity amongst his peers for his extrovert officiating style. 

Fergus the tramp had one of Chuck’s basketballs and was attempting free throws while Reggie the bum tried to get the brazier fire started.  Reggie hailed from Indiana but had moved up to Detroit for some real fame and glamour but life had been hard.  In his day he’d been a Pest but now, down and out in Detroit, his greatest days were long behind him.  He started arguing with Fergus once all the clanging started getting on his nerves.

”You’re not doing that right.  Let me show you what to do.”

Reggie took the ball and bounced it a few times before lobbing in an easy free throw.

”And that’s how it is done.”

Reggie walked back to his brazier while Fergus kept missing.