It's been a while since I've played any serious basketball. I used to play all over NY with my boy Hatebean and we won more than we lost. We played in the Bronx, Lower East Side, Brooklyn - anywhere we could find a game. Don't get me wrong, I was no superstar - though I did hold my own on some pretty tough courts. After playing every day for years, I just stopped. I'm not sure what happened but one day I woke up old. I could no longer do things that used to be second nature: splitting the double team, taking it to the rack in traffic, drilling the open three and talking shit all along. When your game goes south, so does your ego and all that brave chatter quiets down.....
Golf is now the outlet for my competitive streak. But every once in a while I get a desire to play ball. There's a nice little court near Puffin's house in Singapore that has a constant flow of games every night under the lights. I've watched from the sidelines, licking my lips. I could kill these guys and give my young girlfriend a glimpse of a former NY baller. I told her as much a few days ago. "Babe", she replied, placing her hand on my shoulder "don't go out there and hurt yourself." That was all I needed to hear, I went out the next morning at 6am to practice my shooting. I wasn't as rusty as I expected.
That night I laced up my kicks and joined a few guys shooting around on one end of the court. There was an intense four on four on the other end. After a twenty minute warmup, we took on the winner. When the first shot went up, I made my way into the key and did what I always do - bodied someone, anyone, could have been my own teammate. I got the rebound and heard the first complaint. Apparently, they don't like to be elbowed out of bounds here in Singapore. "Check ball." I replied. A few seconds later I took a jumper and heard myself yell "water" as it left my fingers. "Where you from?" he wanted to know. Me: "Brooklyn, where the game was invented." Two lies, separated by a comma. I was cooking now. Drive down the middle for a layup. Pump fake, two dribbles into the key, teardrop. We quickly had em down point-four and ended it a few minutes later. The losers walked court-side, picked up their napsacks and left. They left! Nobody else was there to play us. We stood, looking at each other, breathing heavily in the swampy heat. I waited for another ten minutes and then went home. I recounted the whole story to the Puffin. She looked at me pitifully. "Babe, you went and beat up on some little kids?"
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