Speedier Than A Meteor

Speedier Than A Meteor

I live in Seattle, Washington. I know what you're thinking. You're just like my cousin who came up here from Los Angeles thinking that everybody in the Northwest lives in the forest. I live in the city, the inner city, and there aren't many trees on the street where I live. My name is Shaquille O'Neal, and no, not that one.

I love my name, and at the same time, I hate my name. My mom and dad are big basketball fans, and when I was born they thought the real Shaq was better than the smell of a new car. About the only things Shaq and I have in common are that we are both black, have the same name, and love basketball. There are a few things that we don't share. He's old, and I am in my nines. He is very tall, and I am very short (even for being in my nines). He is the best basketball player in the world, and I am the worst basketball player in the world. Plus, he is rich, and I am poor. Like him, I love basketball-it is the best sport in the world. There is nothing better. But last year was the worst, the absolute worst.

We usually start playing basketball in late September. Every Saturday, without fail, the Central District's Boys and Girls Club sponsors league-play for all age groups. My age group, 9 to 11, is the biggest. As usual, my dad was excited about basketball season. After getting home from the cleaners where he works, and all through dinner, all he talks about is basketball. Most of all, he talks about me playing basketball. I'm his very own personal Shaquille O'Neal.

But my dad never figured out that I wasn't very big. At eight years old, I was barely tall enough to look over the kitchen counter. A basketball was almost bigger than I was. But I tried really hard because, like I said, I like basketball. It just didn't start out liking me. My dad would drive me to the Boys and Girls Club at 8 o'clock every Saturday morning on his way to work. He would stop in at the doughnut shop and get coffee, hot chocolate, and some glazed doughnuts. As he slurped his coffee and munched a doughnut, he would talk about how much fun I was going to have.

Then he'd drop me off, and I would stand around until they unlocked the doors at 9 o'clock. Then I would go inside and stand around until they started choosing teams. Then I would stand around while they chose everybody else. Then I would stand around being the only one left. Then somebody would have to pick me. " But coach, he's too little. " “ Ah, but with Shaquille O'Neal on your team, you can't help but win. " Then everyone would laugh, the team would pick me, and everyone would make fun of me because of my name and my size. Then I would sit around while all the other kids played basketball.