On the Basketball Courts

Translated…

That same childhood, with, two different shades.

178, 179, 180………951, 952………

The numbers were, miscounted now, you’d not known, whether to count it for your son?  Did you, count it back then yourself?  He or “you”, the very first shot you’d made ever.

“Wow, your grandson is so persistent!  How many shots did he make already?”, an elderly man took along his granddaughter for a job, stopped by your side.  “You seemed to make every shot, you must’ve practiced, why don’t you teach it to your young grandson too?”

not my photo…

You’d smiled bitterly, without a word.  Watched the two boys, making the same expressions, minced up the lips; the different looks: your son worked hard, to make it to the entrance, several times, the ball had, brushed by the basket, but just, didn’t, get in.  you, held your head high, squinted your eyes, smiled, dumbfounded, finding that, secret entrance; the small lips, small brows, the small nostrils now, filled up, with the drizzling rain.

“Go!  Go!”, the little girl became an instant cheerleader, your son’s eyes aglow.  191, 192, ………

You’d turned around again, taken a leap, and, tossed that ball with eyes its own, toward that hole that belonged, to solely it.  The first shot broke the net, the second went in didn’t touch the basket, the third, brushed the backboards, shot, shot, shot, shot, you’d made seven consecutive three-pointers.

199. Everything changed, shaking up the world. That rolling magical ball, fell, into the sack of the universe now.

“In, in!  Daddy I made it in!”, your son opened up his arms wide, screaming and hollering in excitement.

Yea!  After this long shot, your flattened ball became like an elderly, finally, making it to the very top, accidentally, slid, into the basket, turned around, flying fast, toward you, hitting, your tiny brain, it couldn’t bounce back, rolled along your forehead, your nose, your chins, straight, to the ground.

not my photo still…

In?  You were, too dizzy now, stunned for a couple of seconds, started waving your arms like crazy, making the rains bounce, and your sweat, with the rains, became, lights in the skies, ball, after ball, an assortment of balls, made of water, fought hard, to get into the basket.

You’d become, the VIP of this game now, bearing witness, to how useless, those long hours of practices got you.

“What the?  It’s cold, dark, and raining, what are you, still, doing here?”  that familiar voice of a man came from behind you, you’d felt, a sudden numb and heat, that feeling, like how you’d made a two-point shot, then, had a free throw after it.  You’d turned around, picked up the ball, and, hurried through the waters, run quickly, toward that shadow that’s tall and sturdy, dressed in the air force’s uniform.

As the dark clouds in the skies rolled and turned, the silvery flash, caused a black hole.

“Ahhhhhhhhh, looks like it’s going to rain”, the people on the court started to, recede away quick.  And you, don’t’ know what was wrong, straightened up your back, eyes wide open, mouth open too, retreat, retreat, retreat, back to the borders, took a deep breath, shrugged your shoulders in secret, smiled toward your son and that little girl by the side of the court, and all of a sudden, you’d wanted to, challenge, taking over half the courts from the center stage?  Holy!  That was, the most romantic free throw you’d ever made since you were just seven, with the perfect angle and everything, capturing every member of the audience’s gazes, then, a super sized, three pointer.

“Wow!”, your son’s lips became a radiant exclamation mark.

“So great, grandpa, you’re amazing!”, that little girl became, a super fan of yours, ran toward you, to give you that high-five.

You’d changed all of a sudden, stared her down, grabbed up her small hands, like how the judge was making a call of who won the championship, “Grand-who?  Young girl, you’re supposed to say, Yay!  Yay!  You’re, so, amazing!”

not my photo still…

So, this, is how an elderly man showed off, that he could still manage, in a game of young men, because he refused to be “old”, that, was why he’d, challenged himself like that, and, in the end, he’d managed, to impress his own young grandson and a little girl who was watching too.