One time. That's all I ask.
I want to dunk a basketball just one time. I yearn for that sensation - to be able to fly. I want to soar above the hardwood and my opponents and throw that ball through the hoop with savage ferocity. I want to scream and flex and preen in front of the admiring masses. I want to wink at the cute blonde clearly in awe of my athletic prowess. I want my teammates to erupt out of their seats and holler in amazement. I want to know how it feels to be King Kong.
I have spent a disturbing percentage of my life wondering how it feels to dunk. I've always dreamed of elevating and conquering that impossible 10-foot hurdle between court and rim.
Alas, I'm a 5'10", husky white guy with limited athleticism.
It's hard sometimes. There's always going to be that little void in my heart. I'll never be able to perform the ultimate act of dominance in the sport I have loved since I was a little kid. No matter how many threes I sink or and-ones I finish, my basketball resume will never be complete.
I've been asked the question many times. The elementary school kids come up to me after a pickup game at the courts, "Hey nice game, can you dunk?" I can feel the shame welling up through my body, my eyes drop. "No, not really," I always reply. They would rather receive a wet willy from the class bully than talk to me after that. "Hey, wanna see me hit 10 straight threes?" I offer as they return to their hoops. They never turn around.
Total respect on the court only seems to be granted when you can stuff. I crave that respect like Kanye craves VMAs.
I don't think you want to know what I would do for a 40-inch vertical. I would step into the ring with Mike Tyson. I would eat all my meals off a public restroom floor. I would go to every class wearing nothing but pink boxer briefs. I would sell my brother into slavery (just kidding Ian ... but not really).
I've spent my whole life watching the game's greats flying through the air as I only wish I could. I watched as Jordan escaped on the baseline and banged on Patrick Ewing in the 1994 Finals. I was amazed by Vince Carter soaring to perform his through-the-legs dunk in the 2000 dunk contest. And I have recently been captivated by LeBron James posterizing everyone from T-Dunc to D-West.
As a fan, it gives me great pleasure to watch these masters of the aerial attack make a mockery of gravity. But as a player it only makes me jealous. Not that I haven't come close.
Back when I was a young buck unhindered by the effects of the college lifestyle, I would come painfully close to sending that ball home. I could dunk on a hoop as tall as 9-foot-10. But in the last couple of years, my jumping ability has decreased significantly.
Initially my heavy heart was too hard to ignore. But I am now coming to terms with the reality that I will never get one down. I'll never shut down a gym with my legendary hops, posterize an unsuspecting big man, or even have my own low-grade YouTube dunk clip. For now I will have to be content with my jumpers, drives, and passes.
And of course, I will always be able to dream.
Danny Joseph is a sophomore majoring in Enligsh. He can be reached at daniel.joseph@tufts.edu.
