(a companion blog entry to Depths of Despair)
Holy crap! Breaking news!
I was just walking my roommate's dog down St. Clair Avenue. The wind is sort of high in St. Paul today, and it's rush hour, so there were a lot of cars on the street. With all the wind and the cars rushing, I didn't notice any shouting when I left the building. But on the way back, over the traffic and the fine summer breeze, I heard a resounding "THREE!"
The Tourettes Baller just made it to three!
This is seriously the first time I've ever heard him get that high, and I've been listening to his counting and his curses for over a year. I haven't heard any shouting since, so I have to wonder if he's just reached his life-long goal and decided to go out while he was on top--you know, like Seinfeld.
Oh, I wish I could have seen it, but the basketball court is sunken. And I have to admit, the mystery associated with the Baller is a large part of his appeal to my imagination. If I had just charged over there, I would have been like a little girl hearing a commotion on Christmas Eve and running downstairs to congratulate Santa on finding her house: I don't want to risk the shattering of any illusions; nor do I want to have to pretend not to know the truth for the benefit of the other kids in the neighborhood.
Plus, I'm not sure the Tourettes Baller is entirely aware of how far his voice carries or how many people are invested in his progress on the basketball court. I wouldn't want him to have the added pressure of knowing he had a far-reaching audience. It might also be--I don't know--disconcerting to him if a strange woman with crazy wind-blown hair and a bag of dog shit hurried over to him shouting, "Way to go, Baller! I knew you could do it."
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4 comments:
Yay!
Ooh, a poll. Sweet. I think three is like the four-minute mile. Now that he's achieved it, he'll be shooting three all the time. And someday, when his audience has again gotten complacent, he will surprise you all again and reach the magical four. I'm not making any bets on five, though.
...or he could be like Mike and move down to the baseball fields, where he will make a mediocre showing before returning to the basketball court, but he'll never quite reach the heights he once achieved, never get as high as three.
I dunno. Maybe the "disconcerting" part might actually encourage him to pipe down and spare the children. ;) Or not.
I say four next year.
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