In the first grade, I was gifted my first pair of basketball shoes and a basketball. I was determined to be the next Kobe Bryant. In the third grade, when I swished a half court shot and won $200, it seemed like my dream might just come true.
In middle school, I broke my Spanish teacher’s ankles, taking her out with a fake behind-the-back crossover. She was 62 yrs old. I thought this was a sign that I’d make it to the NBA soon. (It was only a one-way ticket to detention.)
Fast forward to now, over a hundred rolled ankles, a torn meniscus and fully ruptured achilles later, I still think I have a chance at playing in the NBA. After all, can’t stop won’t stop and all that right?
Anyway, if you ever need any tips on how to use duck tape to heal an Achilles tendon tear—I’m your guy.
P.S. +10 points if you know the car behind me.