MY YOUNGEST SON
MY OLDEST SON
For some, basketball is a way of life. The sounds I hear while watching invoke a sort of nostalgia. Listening to bounce of the ball, the squeak of the well worn sneakers, the barrage of boasting and braggadocio, as one lay-up blends into the next takes me back to my days as a child. Back when I would ask "Mom, can I go outside" in my most angelic voice, met with the eager, yet reserved response, "Yeah, go ahead on". Back when the the people of the WP would flock to watch the amateur "Dr. Jays", "Magics", "Kareems", "Worthys", and sometimes even a few "Birds" teem across the asphalt court. A court that symbolized a bit of freedom-their small piece of the dream. I sit today watching new versions of those now retired players mixed in with many of the latest stars of the paint--The "Barkleys", "Jordans", "Shaqs", and "Pippens" along with the "Lebrons", "Wallaces", "Wades" and many others. I am filled with awe and amazement of the talent that has gone unnoticed by NBA greats. It pleases me to sit under an afternoon sun, enjoying this familiar past-time, wind cool against my face, sounds soothing my ears (the ball bounce is almost like a rhythmic drum beat), Damn, do I love the springtime!!!!!!!!!!!