I first met Tim well before he entered the league. I met him when Wake Forest was still a nightmare of responsibility ahead of him. Haha. The year was 1991, and I had planned a summer trip to Cancun, but the plane decided we would go to the U.S. Virgin Islands instead. I decided this is where I would stay for the duration. But when I called to cancel my reservations in Cancun, the hotel would not hear of it. You see, the owners of my favorite Cancun hotel knew and respected me, so before long a room was flown into my new vacation spot.
So I went to the mini-bar and poured myself a moderate amount of Disney Gin and placed the rest of the bottle in the cupboard. It had a moderate amount of alcohol, but I am large and I was barely intoxicated. Also it was Disney Gin. I looked for a court so that I could play a pick-up game against some locals. The rules would be: 2v1 and I had to shoot outside shots. I walked along the beach in Christiantown, the most wholesome town in the world.
Anyway, after awhile I found a court, but it was empty. I smiled with opportunity. I love getting young people involved in basketball. I knocked on every door for a mile with a smile. Finally I gave up. Then I saw this scrappy kid on the court a mile away. I ran to catch up with him to teach him some fundamentals. I ran so fast. At that time I ran a five-minute mile, but at the three-minute mark I hit a street light, and, jogging in place, I waited for the lights to change. While I was waiting, I saw a child taller than the first child enter the arena. That child had no follow-through. I was like that screaming painting, you know the one, while watching him try to hit a futile outside shot. Then a third child entered and had terrible post moves. He was posting up on the others but they were able to take the ball from him before he could move. And they didn't even have any defensive skills. No, kids!
The lights changed and I crossed as fast as the truth can move. Damn, I thought, still a good quarter-mile away and therefore well outside what I should have been able to discern. In one minute, before I arrived, I noticed a fourth child had entered the arena with a flawless sense of basketball. He taught the others and played over 5 full games with them in that minute. They were much better now, but still obviously not as good as this new child. He was holding a basketball at his side and he had them all sitting down cross-legged in a semi-circle in front of him, with his back turned to me. Birds gathered in a semicircle behind the children. He was lecturing them on the kinematics of the post, I could hear. As I approached, the boy bent his knees very low. Then he pushed the ball way up into the air with all his might, at least 500 or 600 feet. I suddenly realized the ball was heading straight behind him - and directly towards me like a rocket! I yelled in panic until I remembered that I was David Robinson and I calmly caught the ball with one hand. It hurt quite a bit but it had its effect.
"Who are you?" this child asked, looking back at me in shock.
"I am...David Robinson of Basketball?!"
"I am Timothy." Timothy was six feet tall and about sixteen.
"Have you been playing basketball long, Timothy?"
"No, the pool here broke and this is the only game left. I've been playing for six months. That pass I made to you..."
"Yes?"
"...- that used to be a butterfly stroke."
I tried to imagine what it would be like if Navy basketball courts had all been broken. I couldn't. It was so horrifying to even conceive of. Like an eye that could never shut. I thought for a few minutes and closed my eyes. Then I had an answer.
"Why don't you show that pass to me again." Timothy repeated the butterfly stroke and sent the ball on its way. I jumped three feet in the air and caught it as it came down several seconds later. "Yesss," I silently thought.
"Okay, Tim, watch this." I vaguely mimicked the breaststroke, but this time, instead of transferring the energy of the jump to the upward motion of the ball, I transferred it to my feet and dunked from the three-point line. As I walked back to his semicircle of birds and children, he was astonished.
"Whoa. I never would have thought of that."
"Oh, you might have. You're not allowed to show anyone that shot though Tim. The media would find out and destroy you. Humility, Tim. Always humility. Here let me show you how to play in the post." Tim Duncan was exactly six foot five and the other children, not more than eleven, eventually would see the two giants dunk and shoot with medicine balls much larger and heavier than the children themselves. They were transfixed, perhaps by virtue, perhaps by spectacle, but were transfixed nonetheless. I thought about offering them all some Disney Gin to sip while they baked in the sun, but Disney Gin is still gin, and that would be wrong of me.
So I went to the mini-bar and poured myself a moderate amount of Disney Gin and placed the rest of the bottle in the cupboard. It had a moderate amount of alcohol, but I am large and I was barely intoxicated. Also it was Disney Gin. I looked for a court so that I could play a pick-up game against some locals. The rules would be: 2v1 and I had to shoot outside shots. I walked along the beach in Christiantown, the most wholesome town in the world.
Anyway, after awhile I found a court, but it was empty. I smiled with opportunity. I love getting young people involved in basketball. I knocked on every door for a mile with a smile. Finally I gave up. Then I saw this scrappy kid on the court a mile away. I ran to catch up with him to teach him some fundamentals. I ran so fast. At that time I ran a five-minute mile, but at the three-minute mark I hit a street light, and, jogging in place, I waited for the lights to change. While I was waiting, I saw a child taller than the first child enter the arena. That child had no follow-through. I was like that screaming painting, you know the one, while watching him try to hit a futile outside shot. Then a third child entered and had terrible post moves. He was posting up on the others but they were able to take the ball from him before he could move. And they didn't even have any defensive skills. No, kids!
The lights changed and I crossed as fast as the truth can move. Damn, I thought, still a good quarter-mile away and therefore well outside what I should have been able to discern. In one minute, before I arrived, I noticed a fourth child had entered the arena with a flawless sense of basketball. He taught the others and played over 5 full games with them in that minute. They were much better now, but still obviously not as good as this new child. He was holding a basketball at his side and he had them all sitting down cross-legged in a semi-circle in front of him, with his back turned to me. Birds gathered in a semicircle behind the children. He was lecturing them on the kinematics of the post, I could hear. As I approached, the boy bent his knees very low. Then he pushed the ball way up into the air with all his might, at least 500 or 600 feet. I suddenly realized the ball was heading straight behind him - and directly towards me like a rocket! I yelled in panic until I remembered that I was David Robinson and I calmly caught the ball with one hand. It hurt quite a bit but it had its effect.
"Who are you?" this child asked, looking back at me in shock.
"I am...David Robinson of Basketball?!"
"I am Timothy." Timothy was six feet tall and about sixteen.
"Have you been playing basketball long, Timothy?"
"No, the pool here broke and this is the only game left. I've been playing for six months. That pass I made to you..."
"Yes?"
"...- that used to be a butterfly stroke."
I tried to imagine what it would be like if Navy basketball courts had all been broken. I couldn't. It was so horrifying to even conceive of. Like an eye that could never shut. I thought for a few minutes and closed my eyes. Then I had an answer.
"Why don't you show that pass to me again." Timothy repeated the butterfly stroke and sent the ball on its way. I jumped three feet in the air and caught it as it came down several seconds later. "Yesss," I silently thought.
"Okay, Tim, watch this." I vaguely mimicked the breaststroke, but this time, instead of transferring the energy of the jump to the upward motion of the ball, I transferred it to my feet and dunked from the three-point line. As I walked back to his semicircle of birds and children, he was astonished.
"Whoa. I never would have thought of that."
"Oh, you might have. You're not allowed to show anyone that shot though Tim. The media would find out and destroy you. Humility, Tim. Always humility. Here let me show you how to play in the post." Tim Duncan was exactly six foot five and the other children, not more than eleven, eventually would see the two giants dunk and shoot with medicine balls much larger and heavier than the children themselves. They were transfixed, perhaps by virtue, perhaps by spectacle, but were transfixed nonetheless. I thought about offering them all some Disney Gin to sip while they baked in the sun, but Disney Gin is still gin, and that would be wrong of me.
For some reason, Tim Duncan and David Robinson make my weird brand of humor work. They just seem so decent that even when they are doing the impossible they seem like down-to-earth superheroes instead of the unfathomable, unspeakable people that sometimes populate my pieces at their worst.
ReplyDelete