Not a PETA-friendly event

Donkey basketball is like walking into a bizarre dream, a warped Dalí painting. Excitement is in the air as the saggy looking donkeys are pulled around the court, slipping on the gym floor and being bumped around as competitive kids shove each other for a swipe at the ball. Over-eager parents shout from the stands, "Come onnnn Donna! The basket's on that side!!" "Oh for crying out loud, get on the donkey!" "Shoot already!"

Some of the kids struggle at getting on the donkeys with the ball in one hand and fall to the ground while others jump on swiftly with impressive ease. Two or three fat men wearing big "Buckeye Burros' Donkey Basketball" jackets hobble behind the donkeys, hitting their legs with a stick to get them to hurry in one direction or the other.

For the first fifteen minutes, you sit mesmerized by the commotion around you: the shouting parents, the excited kids, the stupefied donkeys, the energetic MC's voice over the loudspeaker. And then all of a sudden you find yourself in the thick of it too, shouting for the blue team's burros to move faster.

When it's over, you step out from the heated gym and gasp a breath of cool air, at last the dream is over.