Thank you, Steven Threet.
Thank you for putting me back in my place in the athletic world.
Spring Break was going so well, and I was excited to get back onto the basketball courts after a month in a walking boot.
It was a place where my athletic ability fit in.
None of my basketball friends exceed 6-foot-1, and not one of them can get a full hand over the rim.
Needless to say, there are no alley-oops during our pickup games.
I look talented playing with them.
But you, Mr. Threet, and your friend George Bell decided to make an appearance.
I can defend a 3-point shooter, but not when that shooter is 6-foot-5.
You took one of my fastbreak layup attempts and shoved it so far down my throat that my colon has been tied up in knots with embarrassment.
There was a missed dunk somewhere along the way, but let’s be honest — I have no right to make fun of you for that.
So thank you, Mr. Threet.
But from now on, can you please spend your time dodging 300-pound linemen, and not sending my shot attempts into the abyss?
It would be greatly appreciated.
