Hoop Dreams

I used to have actual sleeping dreams about playing basketball. More than once the scene was relived and played out while in this prone state of sleep. The court was always where I started out. The ancient gymnasium of the Catholic school that I attended, grades one through eight. Scoreboard in the southwest corner of the gym, not digital but with hands for the minutes and seconds, that when engaged, would move, sometimes forward, sometimes backwards, at unpredictable intervals and where it was never certain to our young minds, which was the minute and second hand and most times they didn't work at all.

In the dreams I'm moving up and down the court, seemingly without effort, with an unlimited supply of oxygen to draw from, navigating the length of the court as if I'm in the greatest form of my childhood hero, Pete Maravich, minus the floppy hair and socks. (Though there was a time when I had floppy hair.) Jump stopping, bounce passing, defending like I never have before, in the passing lanes and with energy galore.

Then comes the jump shot .... the form is textbook but I can't make a thing. Though unlike real life hoops, the misses don't result in a lack of confidence. So, I keep shooting .... and continue missing.

It's nice to visit this land where the guys from every team in the history of the sport, who are expected to take the majority of the shots for their teams .... well it's nice to visit this place where they resided. Not many have ever expected them to be generous with the ball though out of the goodness of their hearts, they just might occasionally. 

There was the one dream where I made the shots but most of the time, no!!