December 27, 2007
Originally published January 17, 2006
I watched Quinton play basketball again tonight and his team won a squeaker, 31-28. They were ahead 29-12 in the second half when they went brain-dead and almost let the other team win. My butt-cheeks gnawed the varnish off the bleacher seat before that game was over.
Quinton scored four points, including one basket that brought me to my feet cheering. He was heading a fast break, tearing down the floor one step ahead of TWO defenders when he caught a perfect pass, went in straight-on to the hoop without slowing down and made a PERFECT layup. Sports fans, if you don't already know, that's the toughest layup in basketball, especially when you're less than five feet tall.
I practiced that shot with Quinton hundreds of times. I kept telling him, "You've got to lay the ball gently just over the front of the rim and allow your momentum to carry the ball off the backboard and into the hoop." He executed it perfectly tonight. As he was heading back down the court on defense, he looked up in the stands at me and grinned ear-to-ear, as if saying, "See? I remembered what you taught me."
Yeah, that boy is afraid of me, all right.
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