His father always told him not to get emotional about sports.  His father would also say that the players didn’t care about the fans. Especially the ones who sat in front of barely working television sets with their legs crossed wearing a second hand pair of Patrick Ewing brand sneakers. Some people hated the Knicks. He never had a negative word to say about his beloved team. There were those 2 moments earlier this year in which Rolando Blackmon was cursed at through the TV screen. Those don’t count. The promised land always seemed close. This was a school night but the feeling of hope was no different. His father never allowed televisions on Wednesdays. Weeknights were for homework not basketball. An exception was made because his father enjoyed the demure of a clean cut B.J. Armstrong. The series was tied at 2 games a piece. Emotions were beyond control and running on ultra high. His father said that he should believe in the beauty of the world and not a sports team. The Knicks provided grief but also served as creators of unadulterated excitement. If only the basketball gods had provided a warning. His hero Patrick Ewing made a move then a pass. His father stood silent as Charles Smith received the ball and went up for the layup. Smith! Smith. Smith stopped! Smith stopped again. A pain tingled at the heels of his feet. It gushed through his body. It chilled then flowed ferociously within the pit of his stomach. The fellows wearing red jerseys had done it. Charles Smith blew it. He did not understand what happened. Why couldn’t someone have alerted him to have lower expectations for this team? The smell of summer rain crept into the 1 bedroom apartment. The Bulls have defeated the Knicks and he once again was forced to hide the tears from his father. He wondered about recovery time and about the people who saw this in person. If Charles Oakley had been around maybe circumstances would have been sweeter. Anthony Mason was open. Soon it would be time to wake up for school.

What do you want to see next???
write on.
j/d