I look to my left, then to my right. I shake off the hands flung wide open calling for the ball in the corner- backside help is on point today. I notice my defender sag back then jerk forward- a common mistake. A quick intake of air through my one working nostril, a flash of my eyes toward the corner, a jab step to disorient his positioning, lead with the right foot one quick penetration dribble- I rise for the shot. Exhale. The leather tugs against the nylon with rotational torque. My defenders posture slacks. He looks devastated. I look just as I did before I even touched the ball; poised.
That is why I succeed.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
http://thesphericalstudies.blogspot.com/2010/05/nba-apocalypse-bloodlust-in-beantown.html
thoughts?
whoops wrong one:
http://thesphericalstudies.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-another-place-im-really-sorry-about.html
btw liked the poem this kinda has a similar kinda vibe at the start (before descending into insanity of course)
Post a Comment