One Saturday afternoon I was playing basketball over on Denker by Normandy Avenue. I’m not a basketball player by any stretch of the imagination. I’m probably the third or fourth to the last guy that you’re gonna pick on your team — “I got next!”, especially as the point guard, or somebody to be your main scorer, but on this particular Saturday, I couldn’t miss.
I was raining three pointers from the left side, from the right side, and from the top of the top of the key. Everything was falling. Even drives to the hoop were spectacular layups against bigger guys. I was having the time of my life. My team won about three games in a row.
Then this one particular gang banger decided that he wanted to play. He was guarding me and talking all kind of smack. It took the fun out of the game. I started missing just so I wouldn’t have to get my ass kicked for winning.
I lived to play another day. But it was fun while it lasted.