Monday, April 27, 2020

C-O-V-I-D

I've been working on my shot.

"That is the ugliest shot I've ever seen," Eli 18.9 said. We were playing basketball at the magical 4-hoop horseshoe. "I think it's as ugly as it can possibly get, and then it gets uglier."

I hoisted the ball up with one hand. "It's a shooting drill," I said.

"It looks worse," he said. "It's actually worse now. This is going to be a total blowout."

Twenty minutes later, he was down one game.

"Your follow through looks like you're giving someone a high five," he said. "You're just pushing the ball toward the basket." A pause, I made a shot. "And it goes in."

On loose balls, I'm not running after them because my calf is a bit strained. It's not a pretty walk, kind of like the world's worst racewalker. I sometimes point only one finger after a shot instead of all four. I also often look like I'm going to fall over after I shoot.

Eli's shooting form is basically perfect.

He's down three letters in the second game. "I think it's all just gotten to me. The speed walking, the finger pointing, the high five, the falling forward. I've been overwhelmed by jank."

He misses another shot. "You've got the COVID," I said. "Take your free throws."

The first free throw bounces on the rim twice and goes out. The second is perfect, except it's two inches too long and bangs off the back rim.

Game.

"What just happened here is totally impossible," he said.

"That's all I know how to do," I said.

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