Posted by Os Davis in basketball, fiction by Os Davis, video | 0 Comments
K.C. at the Line
BuckBokai’d been wanting to write this nigh-epic poem for years and during the 2010 NBA/Euroleague playoff season, finally got it up to do so. This didn’t play so well at BuckBokai big-sibling site BallinEurope.com back then, so perhaps this lonely piece of prosody will find a more welcome home here – sorry for the lack of science-fiction, but hey, it’s literary.
(And please be sure to check out “Casey at the Bat,” still a good read. If you prefer your poetry combined with an escape from a straitjacket, plus scroll to the bottom of this entry.)
K.C. at the Line:
A ballad for the world sung on the eve of the 2010 NBA Playoffs
(dedicated to Nik, Nick, Diq, Shaq and K.B. the inspiration; with all apologies to Ernest Thayer)
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Metro Five that day,
‘Cause the hometown team was down by five with half a minute left to play.
And then when Mozgov fouled out and Jackson did the same,
The Metro crowd, even with their star, started giving up the game.
Some folks got up to go then, abandoning their seat,
Not wishing to serve as witnesses to another playoff defeat.
Most of the fans stayed arena-bound, and couldn’t look away:
There was still time left – and still a chance – for K.C. to save the day
Then the coach broke off the huddle and the teams retook the floor.
K.C.’s face was a mask of cool, for this moment he was born.
The undersized Metro stuck to their men to await the faulty pass.
When K.C. struck like lightning: stole the ball, ran the floor, laid it in off the glass.
The stadium exploded then, cheers raising up the roof.
K.C. on D was more than man and that last play was proof!
Hope was reborn in Metro then with the message from K.C.:
All’s not lost, it ain’t over yet, even if we’re down by three.
Then Metro read the inbounds pass completely perfectly.
It all transpired so quickly – but you’ve seen the replays on TV.
What happened next is history and we all know the famous call:
“K.C. stripped the ball, good god! K.C. stripped the ball!”
And now Metro took its last time out with seven on the clock.
Coach calmly diagrammed a way to get K.C. the rock.
The millions that were watching thought the same way, one and all:
Certainly it’s no surprise that K.C. finds the ball.
Williams passed it in to him to set him up for three,
But faced with a double – no a triple – team, K.C. could not break free.
He was forced with but one second left to chuck up a wild shot:
Hearts rose when it looked like it might go in and sank when it did not.
But wait! Hold on! What’s this hubbub all about?
A whistle blew with point-one seconds left; K.C. had drawn the foul.
He’d bring to the line a double-double which right now mattered not:
To tie this game, to stay alive, he must sink all three shots.
There was cool in K.C.’s manner as he stepped up to the line
His body oozed forth rhythm, his footsteps marked the time.
With lots of awe and a touch of pride, the Metro fans did think
That as the camera focused in, K.C.’d given them a wink.
He bounced the ball upon the floor and bounced it once again
And every Metro fan remembers where they were right then.
The ball flew through the air and cleanly through the net
The audience cried with whoops of joy, but it wasn’t over yet.
What went through K.C.’s mind as he stood upon that stage,
Knowing the power of the game to enrapture or enrage?
He thought again of his dad’s advice, advice always the same:
Son, no matter what you do, Never Let Them Take Your Game.
He bounced the ball upon the floor and bounced it once again
And every b-ball fan alive can recall just how it felt when
The ball cut the air, bounced on the rim and in.
Now thinking was impossible under onslaught of the din.
K.C. had run with his father’s words through Europe and the ‘States,
With but one goal fixed in his mind: To be listed with the greats.
He’d taken youth leagues abroad with ease plus a title in high school.
When he was drafted third, he thought, “I’ll show that number two.”
Fast-forward to the present, seven All-Stars to his name,
A championship, an MVP, and a truckload’s worth of fame.
Tonight alone, he’d bagged 30 and 10, but yet he surely thought
None of it would matter if he didn’t make this shot.
K.C.’s teammates slowly approach him to fistbump or high five
They want to play it coolly, their tension hopelessly belied.
He knows not why it bubbles up again, but he hears it all the same:
His father gravely telling him Never Let them Take Your Game.
He bounces the ball in silence and then bounces it once more.
And we all sit a little closer to see better what fate has in store.
And now the ball is in his hands, and now it’s simply not,
And the silent air is sliced through by the arc of K.C.’s shot.
Oh, somewhere in this fickle world the courts are lit up bright,
The DJs scratch the records and the games go on all night;
And somewhere kids are talking trash, somewhere the shooter’s hot,
But there is no joy in Metro – legend K.C. missed The Shot.
– Os Davis, June 2010