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Friday poem
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“Fast Break” by Edward Hirsch
In Memory of Dennis Turner, 1946-1984
A hook shot kisses the rim and
hangs there, helplessly, but doesn’t drop,
and for once our gangly starting center
boxes out his man and times his jump
perfectly, gathering the orange leather
from the air like a cherished possession
and spinning around to throw a strike
to the outlet who is already shoveling
an underhand pass toward the other guard
scissoring past a flat-footed defender
who looks stunned and nailed to the floor
in the wrong direction, trying to catch sight
of a high, gliding dribble and a man
letting the play develop in front of him
in slow motion, almost exactly
like a coach’s drawing on the blackboard,
both forwards racing down the court
the way that forwards should, fanning out
and filling the lanes in tandem, moving
together as brothers passing the ball
between them without a dribble, without
a single bounce hitting the hardwood
until the guard finally lunges out
and commits to the wrong man
while the power-forward explodes past them
in a fury, taking the ball into the air
by himself now and laying it gently
against the glass for a lay-up,
but losing his balance in the process,
inexplicably falling, hitting the floor
with a wild, headlong motion
for the game he loved like a country
and swiveling back to see an orange blur
floating perfectly through the net.
(from Wild Gratitude, 1985)
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Off-key
Hi, Harrison. I think on line 2 /hut/ should be /but/ .
I see that this was written in ‘85, during the heart of the Lakers- Celtics rivalry. The author must have been influenced by the beautifully fluid fast-break games that both teams played during this era. At least that’s what I see in my mindseye when reading it.
Fast breaks. Showtime. Kupchak, Rambis with the rebound, outlet to Magic, to Cooper, back to Magic, bounce pass to Worthy who slashes to the hoop. Down goes McHale! Offensive foul!
Back the other direction. Ainge, DJ. Off the dribble, Bird on the baseline finds an open Chief in the lane. How did he see that opening?! Tie game! Time out Lakers! (Camera on Jack Nicholson, as the Pointer Sisters blare in the background).
HSK,
I’m giving you a break on a non rhyming week because I like basketball.
#1 Steve
?????????
#2 Travis,
Thanks for the memories and for not putting it in a poem. What a great rivalry and games they plaid.
Llama, somebody fixed the mis-key, but didn’t remove my post.
The poem also reminds me of Qunicy Troupe’s A Poem for “Magic”, but this one is tighter. Fwiw, Troupe was poet laureate of California; taught at UCSD until retirement.