Ipicked up a basketball for the first time and made my first shot. No. I missedmy first shot, missed the basket completely, and the ball landed in the dirtand sawdust, sat there just like I had sat there only minutes before.
Butit felt good, that ball in my hands, all those possibilities and angles. It wasmathematics, geometry. It was beautiful.
Atthat same moment, my cousin Steven Ford sniffed rubber cement from a paper bagand leaned back on the merry-go-round. His ears rang, his mouth was dry, andeveryone seemed so far away.
Oh, do you remember thosesweet, almost innocent choices that the Indian boys were forced to make?