Roll Bounce

 I admit that I am fully open to have my day or even week changed by the events that take place outside of my home. The course of my life can be altered quite simply by a blocked shot or a missed field goal. The other night was closing in on pretty much a wash of a day. Over my shoulder, there was a basketball game being played. Not in my house, but the televised contest was being sent into my living room via a series of electronic impulses that I cannot fully explain. But there it was. The Golden State Warriors, nominally "my team," trying to hold on to a one point lead with just a couple minutes left. I felt that urge to wince at the closeness of the score. I fought it back because, after all, I am subject to the odd bounce or roll of a ball for heaven's sake.

Steph Curry brought the ball downcourt. The defense swarmed to him, but he kept moving toward the basket. Suddenly, he stopped, not to shoot but to flick a pass back to his partner in crime, Klay Thompson. Klay caught the ball, dribbled just once and jumped into the air, pushing that ball I said I had not interest in through the suddenly quiet night and finally through the hoop. Nothing but net. Pushing the lead to four points, and allowing me to remove my shoulders from my earlobes. 

Everything was going to be okay. 

It just so happens that at this same time, just a flip of the dial away, the New York Knights were down two runs to none against the Pittsburgh Pirates in the deciding game of the National League Championship. The National League Championship of 1939. Roy Hobbs came up to bat, with two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning. Roy struggled, with two men already on base, it was up to him to deliver. Because he had before. So many times. He ran the count to full, and there was blood visible seeping through his jersey. Down to his final strike, Roy Hobbs crushed a fastball high into the night sky, clanging off the lights high above the stadium, resulting in a shower of sparks as he rounded the bases. The Knights won three to two. As they have all the times I have watched that movie, but it felt good to me all over again. 

I went to bed happy. Like so many nights when the balls bounced the right way. For me. I thought about Tom Brady, and all the times I had lost sleep because he got the ball to go where I didn't want it to go. And I thought about how many times he sent others to bed with happy thoughts. I forgave him for that. I slept well that night.