even though i'd sworn off sports forever when i got to high school (it was that damned jock-and-cheerleader uprising that got me), i still had (have) this secret desire to be a star point guard for the NBA. when i was a kid i had a dirt half-court in my backyard. my friends and i played for hours everyday, until the bats swooped down at the ball in the last urgent seconds of daylight.

(i was larry bird -dubbed as such for my unique ability to shoot from incredibly long ranges.)

for those five hours after school each day i was important. i belonged. i was happy. i was so devoted, in fact, that in the winter i would play until my toes started to bleed from cracking. my basketballs would become so coated with dust and mud that i had to buy a new one every 3 months because we had worn the bumpy surface down to nothing but a slick layer of leather. i spent time with my father as he taught me his special hook shot (i still can't figure it out).

it was the glue i used to construct my life. the center of my world. i would go so far as to say that it was the essence of my childhood.

and yesterday, as i gripped the ball in both hands and missed shots time after time after time, i felt that essence. i felt my childhood between those bumps, oozing between my fingers. i saw the faces and heard the voices of my friends. i wondered if they still played. i wondered why i didn't. i felt the sweat dripping from my hair and down the back of my neck, remembering the days that i let it run free. remembering the days that i ran free.

i heard the roaring crowds in my head - the same crowds that cheered me on as a child. and i heard the countdown. i felt the pressure.

5

4

3

2

1

score.