Member-only story
I Love Basketball
Bernard Wright was elegant. Standing 6'3" with long arms, muscular legs and an exquisitely carved physique, he glided over a basketball court. He had perfect balance, a textbook jump shot and an unstoppable spin move. When he rose to dunk, he took off like a jet with a galvanic vertical leap culminating in a violent slam.
As a 10th grader at North Hollywood High, I watched Wright’s games as if he were an NBA star. I once played with him in a pickup game. Hoping to impress, I offered my best move, a crossover dribble, eluding my defender and cutting through the defense. As I released the ball toward the hoop, he grabbed the shot and came down with it in both hands. He walked off the court and deposited the ball into a metal trashcan.
“Take that garbage to the dumpster where it belongs,” he said.
Everyone erupted in laughter. I was enthralled. For one brief moment, Wright knew who I was.
Basketball has always been a panacea for me. Whatever life’s difficulties, I can always shoot baskets. At 5'9", I was too small for high school football and didn’t have the skill set for baseball. Basketball was different. I was quick, I could dribble and I could shoot. I loved scoring but I enjoyed passing even more. I loved the subtleties of the game. Boxing out, setting screens, moving without the ball.
