How to spot a Tulsa Shock fan

Screw the rice cooker and teeth bleach I received for Christmas--I'm sure we can all agree that everyone's real gift was the triumphant return of the NBA.

When your family plans dinner, beer pong tournaments, and the annual Christmas trip to the movie theater around the Thunder's opening game, well, I suppose you or someone in your family enjoys basketball. When you forego these plans to attend the game, you're definitely a superfan. And when your family re-enacts a pick and roll, knocks your grandma to the floor, kicks a hole in the wall, and crumbles a granite counter top in the process, well, you might have a problem.

I come from one of these insane basketball-loving families. We've been known to drive to OKC day after day, shell out ridiculous dividends to attend games, and have even settled for the seats third row from the back of the court in support of our team. I wouldn't quite say my sister puts Red Sox fans to shame, but she does own Thunder footie pajamas (and lives in a sorority house). Before there was the Thunder (or even Blake Griffin at OU), there was that nice neighborhood kid Nick Sidorakis playing for our beloved Jenks Trojans. Where there was basketball there were Cawoods, and we're the best kind of fans.

However, there is one basketball team in our immediate vicinity that we (and everyone else I associate with) are completely out of the loop on, and they're known as the Tulsa Shock. Is this news to you? Tulsa, Oklahoma has a professional women's team, and last season they were 3-31 with the first ever WNBA 20 game losing streak. Humiliating! This is more embarrassing than the time I got food poisoning whilst trying on wedding dresses. Oh wait, maybe that just happened in a movie I watched.

After embarking on some extensive research (and by "extensive research" I actually mean "consulting moles who work for the Shock") I've identified the three kinds of people you'll find at a Tulsa Shock game. A miserable crowd indeed. Find out exactly what you aren't missing...after the jump.

1. Families with small children. What an idyllic place to munch on cotton candy, pick up some carnie gifts, and see first hand what failure looks like. I'd imagine that it's hard to teach a child the harsh reality of life in a world where Nemo finds his father, the Grinch learns to love, and the Olsen twins can ALWAYS solve any crime by dinner time. The Tulsa Shock offers budget-friendly admission (season passes cost less than one Thunder ticket), and a fully stocked bar--everything a happy family of four needs to enjoy a wholesome yet depressing night on the town.

2. Females who... Now, I'm definitely not the kind of person that's concerned with political correctness. But I am against making rash judgments about a group of people. Okay, that was a total lie. Regardless, I'll let you determine the largest common denominator of the pack of ladies I see entering the BOK Center from the perch of my window that overlooks one of the arena's parking facilities. A large number of them seem to have an affinity for cargo shorts and wallet chains, lip and/or eyebrow rings, fauxhawks, JNCO's, Oakleys, denim jackets, tribal tattoos, and Tevas. Your call.

3. Hipsters. I can't think of anything more ironic than supporting the shittiest basketball team in the entire nation. The next time you see a parade of individuals donning trucker hats, scarves, and frayed cords, know that they aren't on their way to the Day Center or the Plasma Donation Headquarters. Instead, they're venturing to the BOK Center where they'll buy PBR even though it's twice as expensive as the Coors on tap, act blase and read Twitter during the game, then congregate at the Soundpony afterwards and moan about how unappreciated the Tulsa Shock is. In a few years (if the Shock ever starts winning games), they'll tell all their friends about how the Shock "sold out" and were SO much better before anyone liked them.

Holla atchyo girl on Twitter at @xcawoodstock

Photo shamelessly stolen from TashaDoesTulsa.com.