B. always struck me as an eccentric. A point guard who has to set the table just right for his teammates, or he’ll pull the ball back out and set it up again…and again…and again, you can tell from watching him on the court that there’s a lot going up upstairs when he playing.
I knew B. from pickup days in the summer over at the U of A. I’d never really talked with him before, but he’s one of the characters from a court that sticks with you.
The eccentricities flow from him like water. His medium length, Cobain-like blonde locks stay out of his eyes thanks to a thick, ribbon-like material that he uses as a headband. His gear is simple: a white t-shirt, silver knee-length shorts, Pistol Pete-like grey socks and plain, white kicks that might have been D-Wade 1.3’s.
We’ve played together a few times in the last few months. Today before the game starts, we talk a bit. He tells me he likes my game, which is nice of him. I tell him there hasn’t been much to like this week. My shot isn’t falling, and I can’t hang onto the ball to save my life. I can’t even turn to blaming the crappy ball, because we use my ball every time we play. I remember him hitting shots and scoring on drives on Tuesday.
“You had a good run on Tuesday,” I tell him.
“I’m an artist,” he says. “When I do something, I have a vision. Even if I play good, if the game doesn’t fall into my vision, I’m not happy with how it went.”
Tuesday’s pickup game, he says, didn’t fit into his vision.
The carousel of king’s court five-on-five had us on different teams all day, with B. running the point most of the day for his team. He pounds the ball into the floor with every dribble like he’s molding a piece of clay. With his shoulder-high dribble, it almost looks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, running around the court with an extra bounce to his step. A string of defenders seem to think the same thing, swiping and losing on the gamble.
A few games later, I look around the gym and B. is gone. I’ll have to find out the next time I see him if this game matched up well to his vision.
2 Comments
April 25, 2008 at 11:53 am
“I’m an artist,” he says. “When I do something, I have a vision. Even if I play good, if the game doesn’t fall into my vision, I’m not happy with how it went.”
I think I just fell in love a little bit.
May 15, 2008 at 6:01 pm
[...] player (better than me, anyway) and expects the game to go his way (note: he doesn’t have a vision) and if it doesn’t, the fuming begins. AH#2 is so good, in fact, that he has no qualms about [...]
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