Stacey Augmon
You, still being blind, feel your arms, trying to figure out what your
new form is. Your feeling hands come across the jersey that you are
wearing, and your finger-tips trace the name emblazed across it.
Portland Trailblazers. Upon knowing this, you fall on your knees to
the ground (the ground is considerably further down then you expected)
and wail. As you lie there on the ground, you think of that moment two
years ago, the year 2002, when the Lakers, your favorite team, were
beaten by the Trailblazers on game seven of the Western Conference
Finals.
You recall that dreaded post up move performed by Stacey Augmon with
3.2 seconds left on the clock, exploiting Kobe Bryant's less than
steller post up defense, dunking over your hero to win the game for
Portland. You had rooted for the Lakers for the past five years, and
had bet five thousand bucks that L.A. would win in game seven. But
that dreaded moment, that moment you had nightmares about for months
afterwards, had destroyed your future, for those five thousand bucks,
then you had thought should have increased to ten, was you tuition for
college. A college you would never have the opportunity to attend, all
because of Augmon. Stacey Augmon. And you cry, for he who you dreaded
most, you had become.
The child looks up at you in awe, or at least that is what you think
he is doing. He says in reverence, "Stacey, Stacey Augmon, you
have come. After four millenia, someone has finally come who has any
basketball skills."
