hoop dreams (babyface)

i find this deflated basketball in the trash outside the bar and it totally captures my imagination. i'm so bummed from charlie v being traded, you know. with an idea, i start digging through other queen street trash and i find an empty cardboard box. it says: 'handle with care', but i'm not going to. so i set it up against a sidewalk tree trunk. and i start bombing shots. they're dropping like i'm A.I. ball don't lie. sometimes i throw a fred jones into it. (c___ fucking exhales this: it's an imac box. fucking on dirt roots of a sidewalk fucking curb tree, you suck dude) anyway, i'm into it. i'm breaking ankles. then a guy comes out and i want to have fun. i take a shot just as he moves towards the box and it hits him in the head! i put my palms up, but he freaks and throws the ball at me and it hits me in the balls. i lose it and go right at him. at the last second i figure i'll just wrap him up. he's kind of a punk. to diffuse it, i start up the game verbally. i try to make it loose and cut the tension giving him eye contact and calling out: 'hits the open man' but he doesn't get it or put his hands up and my pass hits him right in the chest. (no justice for squaring me but) i say, 'i'm not antagonistic!' but i'm figuring at this point he must not speak english because he puts his skateboard behind him and steps up. trying to ward off the inevitable, i pull out a movie quote -- despite my antipathy to all things celluloid: 'english mutherfucker! do you speak it?!' nothing. he's got that brutal stupid drunk look plastered in his eyes and all i can think about in that moment is babyface nelson. what would he do?