Anybody who knows me even a little bit, knows that there is a basketball bouncing in some part of my brain at any point of time during the day or night, even when I'm sleeping. I have had dreams on countless occasions which have involved ten sweaty guys, an orangey brown sphere and two hoops. Piyush told me the other day that he dreams about sports cars. I guess all of us dream about something or the other that we care about…
Anyway, on one such idle moment when I was thinking about basketball, I remembered an incident in 9th (or was it 10th?) standard. We were all supposed to write poems for publication in the school magazine. Of course only the best entries would be chosen. In other words, entries of sincere students (aka toppers) whose poems generally went along these lines: I had a cat, it slept on a mat, ate a rat, played with a bat…
Girls around me immediately put pen to paper. Most of the guys were playing pen fight (a game where two guys face off with their ball pens on the table, and the objective of the game is to knock the other guy’s pen off the table). But I was at a loss at what to do. Poems are not cool. When you are a teenager in school, image is very important. Unfortunately, I had only one pen which I couldn’t afford to break, so left with no choice, I made my first (and only) fledgling attempt at poetry. Not surprisingly it was about basketball. In hindsight it was and continues to be an extremely lame poem, and I am still embarrassed by it. More so because it actually got carried in the school magazine, replete with my name and a black and white photo- just in case anybody who happened to read it and did not recall my name would be able to recognise the photo. So anyway, it goes something like this:
Basketball is the name of the game
Shooting baskets is the way to fame
If you are tall, you can dunk the ball
If your aim is true, then your team is through
Pass and play, its not you all the way
But you’ll have your say, unless it is a very bad day
Even Jordan was not a child prodigy
“I practised and practised”, said he
I may not have won yet, but I still play ball
‘coz I know one day, ill be in the famed hall
Anyway, on one such idle moment when I was thinking about basketball, I remembered an incident in 9th (or was it 10th?) standard. We were all supposed to write poems for publication in the school magazine. Of course only the best entries would be chosen. In other words, entries of sincere students (aka toppers) whose poems generally went along these lines: I had a cat, it slept on a mat, ate a rat, played with a bat…
Girls around me immediately put pen to paper. Most of the guys were playing pen fight (a game where two guys face off with their ball pens on the table, and the objective of the game is to knock the other guy’s pen off the table). But I was at a loss at what to do. Poems are not cool. When you are a teenager in school, image is very important. Unfortunately, I had only one pen which I couldn’t afford to break, so left with no choice, I made my first (and only) fledgling attempt at poetry. Not surprisingly it was about basketball. In hindsight it was and continues to be an extremely lame poem, and I am still embarrassed by it. More so because it actually got carried in the school magazine, replete with my name and a black and white photo- just in case anybody who happened to read it and did not recall my name would be able to recognise the photo. So anyway, it goes something like this:
Basketball is the name of the game
Shooting baskets is the way to fame
If you are tall, you can dunk the ball
If your aim is true, then your team is through
Pass and play, its not you all the way
But you’ll have your say, unless it is a very bad day
Even Jordan was not a child prodigy
“I practised and practised”, said he
I may not have won yet, but I still play ball
‘coz I know one day, ill be in the famed hall
5 comments:
If you are tall, you can dunk the ball? hahaha
If you are short, you can sit and rot
If you are thin, jump in the dust bin
If you are strong, prove everybody wrong
If you are weak, eat healthy every week
If you are fat, then LOSE SOME GOD DAMN WEIGHT
@shnuu- nice one da, you amaze me with your rhythm on and off the court
If you're name is D, that's all you need to B.
the ball when you slam, it makes a sound..WHAM
a passer makes the dish
a shooter sends it swish
send the ball thru the ring
makes you feel like a king
anklebreaker after a fake pass
makes the defence lie on its ass
you make shot after shot
when your hand is feeling hot
the ball when you slam, it makes a sound..WHAM
a passer makes the dish
a shooter sends it swish
send the ball thru the ring
makes you feel like a king
anklebreaker after a fake pass
makes the defence lie on its ass
you make shot after shot
when your hand is feeling hot
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