(Note: more recycled stuff)
I took to basketball seriously enough at around age 8. that's when I started heading to the playground right after school, clumsily dribbling an orange ball and shooting the lights out of the angry midday sun. I was of course, the only kid out.
Probably, I was the only person out shooting hoops during that time of day. Man, was it hot out there. The noon could be pretty nasty. The courts back then didn't have a roof covering the upside with some "well-meaning" politician advertising it as his effort to stop drugs and prostitution and gambling and other social ills and vices one can enumerate.
I didn't have any drill of any sort, at least not that I can remember. I just played my guts out. I just took shots from each square inch I could square off for a jumper. Heh. Still got that soft touch and range. And oh yeah, the pulse. Can hit the mid and long-range jumper and set shot with a lot less effort than most guys.
Still recall the time, one shootaround, I sank one of every two shots I took from beyond the arc. That was at least 8 shots or so before it tapered off. Fifty-percent.
Or that other time that could perhaps be best game I played ever. Just another informal scrimmage, really. Went 4 of 4 from all over the court, grabbed 8 rebounds and dished 3 good ones in 15 minutes. Not to mention decent D. Two of those 4 shots were off the backboard, Duncanesque jumpers at 15 and 17...the two other were breakaway lay-ins.
One of them was one shot I find hard to forget. I heard once that in your basketball life, you could only make your highest jump only once. One time and that's it. MJ, Dr. J, VC and all those mutants and jumpsoles freaks aside, you can only jump your highest at a single time, in a single play.
I also heard that it seemed to just be another jump. Then you start to notice...you just keep on soaring and seem to be walking on air. Unreal.
Let me tell you this. I got no jump. Perhaps because I was built more along the lines of the Karl Malone-Brian Grant body type, low center of gravity, big frame, big bones, and flabby, flat feet that's why.
Back to the shot. Breakaway after a steal. I was running straight on the right side of the court. Defense had only one man down the hole. For some odd reason, my good buddy Carl (a third string point guard in high school, haha ...got game really, needs a jumper though).. whips up an awry pass (yeah, and a bit more crisp on those passes too wouldn't hurt...kidding) in my direction...I pick up my dribble and start going full throttle...10, 8, 6, feet from the hoop, I cradle the ball, hold it tight with both hands and go up...the one guy, a rather athletic though flabby forward lunged at me...Aerial ballet, a dogfight, mano a mano...now hold it, freeze frame...my man starts going down...
I remember swinging the ball instinctively to the right, swerving it away from him…I paused for what seemed like the duration of a couple of heartbeats…then I said..."hoyyy"and flicked the ball in after that.
When I looked back, everyone on the floor was staring at what I just pulled off.
"Bumitin sa ere." "Hangtime move"
And then we went back playing.
Gawd, I thought: “Did I just do that?”
No comments:
Post a Comment