EmceeSoze
05-14-2005, 02:39 AM
I am cool.
I have a claim to "fame" that makes me cooler than any of you, by far, so far.
I can drop this tidbit whenever and where-ever, and instantly those in my vicinity will drop to their knees and recognize my superiority.
the author will now tell of his fame like any abundantly shallow soul would do in the presence of his "group", wanting nothing but recognition and superficial pats on the back for his amazing place in celebrity culture.
In January of 1992, I laced up my Reeboks, tucked in my jersey and took to the floor at Argyle Secondary school's gymnasium in North Vancouver.
It was an evening that changed me forever in ways completely unimportant to my evolution of things important.
At the other end of the court, St. Michael's University's senoir basketball team had gathered to win a game that we too had intent on winning.
Late in the third quarter with my team down some 30+ points, my coach delivered the timeless request for my talents on defence.
"OK guys, pull it together...****...you take Nash and get in his face!!!"
Steve Nash, 2005 NBA MVP and current point-guard of the Phoenix Suns, was about to face a challenge of great importance in his path to NBA mastery. This was a major test.
We locked eyes at the top of the 3-point arc, his pace slowed somewhat as he briefly sized-up this unforseen force of great resistance...
there was no turning back...
Instead there was a cross-over left followed by a rapid surge right, a move leaving nothing on the table.
Before I could move from my ultra-intense defensive stance, Nash the Great was behind me and soon to dish off for another easy bucket.
I was beaten...this time, but my chance for redemption soon presented itself.
I brought the rock down court and upon crossing center, Nash closed me down and pressured my every move. It was my turn...
Comforted by my team's state of being "blown out", I cunningly showed an air of "bench warmer" skill-level and upon seeing that Nash had backed off from his pressure-D, I took action.
As I reached my vertical limit of a few feet and began my 3-point shot mechanics, I saw that I was screwed big-time and Nash would be to blame.
When I landed and turned to 'defend' my end just moments after Steve Nash had blocked my attempted shot, his brother Marty was already streaking towards our basket with the help of Steve's instant outlet pass.
By the next whistle, I was planted back on the pine and planted back in my place as an average white basketball player who can't jump worth a damn.
Yes folks, Steve Nash, NBA MVP owes MUCH of his rise to stardom to...
ME and maybe the 1000 or so better players since then that brought his game to MVP level.
PS - final score was SMU 101 - my team 48. BLOW OUT but something we'll never forget.
I now go back to my usual "ain't done shit all" self appreciation.
Go get 'em Steve!!
I have a claim to "fame" that makes me cooler than any of you, by far, so far.
I can drop this tidbit whenever and where-ever, and instantly those in my vicinity will drop to their knees and recognize my superiority.
the author will now tell of his fame like any abundantly shallow soul would do in the presence of his "group", wanting nothing but recognition and superficial pats on the back for his amazing place in celebrity culture.
In January of 1992, I laced up my Reeboks, tucked in my jersey and took to the floor at Argyle Secondary school's gymnasium in North Vancouver.
It was an evening that changed me forever in ways completely unimportant to my evolution of things important.
At the other end of the court, St. Michael's University's senoir basketball team had gathered to win a game that we too had intent on winning.
Late in the third quarter with my team down some 30+ points, my coach delivered the timeless request for my talents on defence.
"OK guys, pull it together...****...you take Nash and get in his face!!!"
Steve Nash, 2005 NBA MVP and current point-guard of the Phoenix Suns, was about to face a challenge of great importance in his path to NBA mastery. This was a major test.
We locked eyes at the top of the 3-point arc, his pace slowed somewhat as he briefly sized-up this unforseen force of great resistance...
there was no turning back...
Instead there was a cross-over left followed by a rapid surge right, a move leaving nothing on the table.
Before I could move from my ultra-intense defensive stance, Nash the Great was behind me and soon to dish off for another easy bucket.
I was beaten...this time, but my chance for redemption soon presented itself.
I brought the rock down court and upon crossing center, Nash closed me down and pressured my every move. It was my turn...
Comforted by my team's state of being "blown out", I cunningly showed an air of "bench warmer" skill-level and upon seeing that Nash had backed off from his pressure-D, I took action.
As I reached my vertical limit of a few feet and began my 3-point shot mechanics, I saw that I was screwed big-time and Nash would be to blame.
When I landed and turned to 'defend' my end just moments after Steve Nash had blocked my attempted shot, his brother Marty was already streaking towards our basket with the help of Steve's instant outlet pass.
By the next whistle, I was planted back on the pine and planted back in my place as an average white basketball player who can't jump worth a damn.
Yes folks, Steve Nash, NBA MVP owes MUCH of his rise to stardom to...
ME and maybe the 1000 or so better players since then that brought his game to MVP level.
PS - final score was SMU 101 - my team 48. BLOW OUT but something we'll never forget.
I now go back to my usual "ain't done shit all" self appreciation.
Go get 'em Steve!!