Grant Randall isn’t an imposing guy.

At 5 feet 8 inches tall and 160 pounds, he’d be no match for Wayne Simien, battling under the net against Kansas University’s former big man.

During his four years as a KU undergraduate, Randall never stood a chance of stepping into the spotlight during a Jayhawk game at Allen Fieldhouse and hearing the roar of the crowd as he sank a basket.

And the mere thought of the 24-year-old Baxter Springs native making it all the way to the NBA is only slightly less ridiculous than the possibility of George W. Bush announcing he’s become a Buddhist.

But in the world of low-goal basketball, Randall is the man.

In fact, among his friends he’s known as the “godfather” of the game, sort of a lesser – much lesser – James Naismith.

But whereas Naismith founded a sport now beloved by millions of Americans and played around the world, Randall pioneered a peculiar offshoot of that game that has developed die-hard followers in Lawrence numbering in the high single digits.

What was Randall’s monumental contribution to the world of athletic competition?

He lowered the hoop.

Low-goal basketball players, back row from left, Brett Dauffenbagh, 23, Sean Pauzauskie, 23, Allyn Kaufmann, 23, front row from left, Andrew Rider, 21, Grant Randall, 24, Tim Ostrander, 23, and Phuong Tran, 22, get together on weekends at Cordley School to play pickup games.

It was Randall’s brainstorm, along with his college roommates Allyn Kaufmann and Alex Kissel – also Baxter Springs natives – to move their games of pickup basketball to a playground for schoolchildren, where (and this is key) the goals are only 8 feet tall, as opposed to the regulation 10-foot-tall goals.

The move raised the level of their game tremendously, allowing the trio – average athletes, all – to dunk, showboat and hot-dog just like the big shots in Allen Fieldhouse and the NBA.

“Low goal was actually born out of distraction from studying,” says Randall, a 2004 KU graduate and Lawrence resident.

“We’d look out the window of our house at the low goal at the old Centennial School, and it was finals time …”

Kissel, a 2003 KU graduate now working as a teacher in Boston, finishes Randall’s story.

“We kind of had active minds, but not minds that we wanted to direct toward things with an actual purpose. It was right around finals, and we were watching the NBA, and we started thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if we were that tall,'” Kissel says.

“After a life of athletic inability, we decided instead of growing taller or jumping higher, we could bring the goal down to us.”

And the rest is history.

The fledgling sport even has its own motto: “Aim low.”

Urban-style streetball

Four years after the game emerged, low-goal basketball is still going strong.

It’s actually growing.

Every two weeks or so, Randall e-mails or calls a group of about 10 friends to organize a game at their “fieldhouse” – the low-goal half courts outside Cordley School, 1837 Vt.

Some of the players are friends from Randall’s college days, others are co-workers from his job at Starbucks Coffee, 647 Mass., and a few have only recently been pulled into Randall’s low-goal orbit, sucked in by the prospect of easy dunks and the chance to hang on the rim.

They all have adopted – or given each other – urban-style streetball names.

From left, Andrew Rider, Tim Ostrander, Sean Pauzauskie, Allyn Kaufmann and Grant Randall take a break during a low-goal basketball game. The men, all average height, play on goals that are 8 feet rather than 10 feet tall.

Some of the vaguely hip-hop-flavored monikers have a subtext; others are unhinged from any kind of meaning.

There’s Grant “Skittles” Randall.

Allyn “Dunks with a Fist” Kaufmann. (He has some American Indian ancestry.)

Sean “Sweet River” Pauzauskie. Go figure.

Tim “Chief Justice” Ostrander (so named because “he brings order to the court.”)

Phuong “Psycho Thriller” Tran (nickname and real name have the same initials), Andrew “Ice Man” Rider and Brett “Net Prophet” Dauffenbagh.

Kissel, Randall’s former KU roommate is officially Alex “Tha Gr8” Kissel.

Sean Pauzauskie, Lawrence, hangs on the rim after a reverse dunk during a low-goal dunk contest. The low-goal ballers, all average athletes of average height, play on 8-foot-tall goals rather than the regulation 10-foot-tall goals.

But perhaps the best streetball name has been reserved for Josh Morrison, one of Randall’s co-workers at Starbucks.

His nickname: “The Phantom Menace” (taken from the title of a notably lackluster Star Wars prequel).

The reason?

“I get your expectations up, but ultimately let you down,” says Morrison, 22.

No shame in their game

There’s a certain logic at work behind the sport.

“If you play football or basketball, you can lift weights and get stronger or train to get faster. But in basketball, you can’t make yourself taller. Low goal is the great equalizer,” Randall explains.

Ostrander, 23, met Randall through a KU campus ministry, and the two hit it off.

“One of the things we have in common is basketball – and a height problem. You gotta compensate for the height by bringing the goal down to your level,” says Ostrander, who’s 5 foot 9.

Phuong Tran, 22, puts up a shot over Sean Pauzauskie, 23, and Allyn Kaufmann, 23, during a game of low-goal basketball. At left is Andrew Rider, 21, of Lawrence.

“If you watch what happens in the NBA and you bring the goal down to your level, dreams can happen.”

In other words, low-goal basketball turns run-of-the-mill athletes into (seemingly) great ones.

“All of these guys can play pretty well, but this makes us play better than we normally would. None of us is blessed with height,” says Rider, 21, a KU senior from Bethalto, Ill.

“It makes Grant feel better because he can actually dunk now.”

Morrison, who lives in Olathe, just started playing low-goal basketball recently.

“I like the fact that it’s a bunch of guys getting together, not taking ourselves too seriously. We realize we’re not that great – that’s why we’re not out there playing on the 10-foot goals,” he says.

What’s the secret to dominating in low-goal basketball?

Players say it’s all about attitude – having a chip on your shoulder, playing bigger than you are.

“You have to intimidate your opponents, early and often. Also, hanging on the rim is key,” says Pauzauskie.

Kaufmann agrees.

“My secret is to play as dirty as I can. No mercy – no mercy at all.”

Grant Randall, Lawrence, 24, dunks over Tim Ostrander, 23, bottom left, and Allyn Kaufmann, 23, bottom right, during a low-goal dunk contest. The low-goal ballers get together on weekends at Cordley School to play pickup games.

And that’s fine with Randall, who says it’s very much in keeping with the outsize, aggressive spirit of the game.

“Trash talking is the fourth man on a three-man team,” he says.

But don’t these guys feel the least bit ridiculous?

After all, they’re healthy, young men playing basketball on elementary school playgrounds – on goals intended for children.

At long last, have they no shame?

“Absolutely none,” Pauzauskie says.