Down at the park

With my family out of town I go down to a little park in Los Altos most nights to shoot some hoops and generally shake my limbs around.  A couple of vignettes.

• I went down there one night and the place was deserted.  I took a shot and it went in.  And another, and another.  I must have made, like ten or twelve in a row from all over the court.  Some people wandered up the path from the park, and: clang clang clang, that was that.  But I'm telling you, when no one is around and no one is guarding me, I am deadly.

• A few nights later a 9 year-old kid challenged me to one-on-one.  I thought it over - I'd seen him practicing and knew he had a deadly jumper in the 6-12 foot range, and was a legit ballhandler.  I sized up him and said ok.  I admit I played somewhat passively on defense, and made a botch of even that, as he called me on it.  "Come on," he said, "guard me for real."  I slapped the ball out of his hands.  He looked at me coldly and said "don't do that again."

• This morning a man was out with his young son and a friend shooting on the 9 foot basket.  His son - we'll call him Little Johnny - insisted on taking shots from as far away as possible.  His father tried to con him a little - "you know, you should shoot from as close as you can - that's what the pros do."  And you know damn well Johnny was having none of it, because in his mind there is only: