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HEMISPHERESMAGAZINE.COM
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SEPTEMBER 2012
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ILLUSTRATION BY ALEX NABAUM
55
“I HAVEN’T SEEN
you make one yet!” a helpful
bystander yells out as I bounce another shaky jump
shot off the netless double rim of the empty court
bymy apartment. This is problematic. The thought
of people accidentally seeingme practicemakesme
nervous enough; active viewers are another thing
altogether. One a ernoon an adorable 6-year-old
girl stops walking and starts doing play-by-play—“Miss! Miss! Miss!
Score!”
—and I grin at her broadlywhile
fighting off an urge to break down in tears and beg her to stop.
Such are the torments a grownmanmust endurewhenhe suddenly decides to learn to shoot a basketball.
Askmy friends to describemy form, and they’ll tell tales of anunseemly, stu ering, one-legged thing—like
a newborn fawn, given a basketball and directed toward a hoop. I always assumed I would get be er over
time, but as I approached the age when you begin to accept that the skill set you currently possess is the
skill set with which you will die, it became clear that wasn’t the case. Something had to be done. I wasn’t
ready to die without a jump shot.
When I set out on this li le self-improvement project several months ago, it was boldly and with hubris.
I will absent myself from society and practice ceaselessly,
I thought.
Then, when I return to
Basket Case
Inside oneman’s quest to shoot a
perfect jumper, despitemeddlesome
neighbors, children’s taunts and
limited physical ability
BY AMOS BARSHAD