(I make no judgements about content. I'm simply purging some of the clutter that's been inside my head since 1983.)
~ Tom "Bake" Neff, a forward on my high school basketball team.
During a time out, the Coach couldn't locate Bake in the huddle, and began yelling for him. After screaming Bake's name three or four times, the Coach spies him lying several yards away, relaxing on his side with a basketball under his head like a pillow, and askes: "What the hell are you doing, Neff?"