Joy Holmes-Harris happily watched her son perform for the first time on the biggest stage of all, the NBA. He was already having such a good game, though as always she didn’t know how many points he had and as always it didn’t matter. She wasn’t much of a sports person, her basketball knowledge started and ended with “put the ball in the hoop”, but she could never pass up the chance to see her dear son.
The free concessions were another thing she could not pass up on. The taste of salty popcorn was forever entwined in her mind with memories of her son’s greatest triumphs on the court, all the way from middle school. The tang of icy cola recalled the sadness of losses, but also his interminable will.
She turned to her friend, Yolanda. “Yo, have you been keeping track of…”. Before she could finished her sentence, a large moan went through the stadium followed by a quieter yess from the court. Yolanda gesticulated frantically. “Did you see that? Did you see that?!”
Joy looked around confusedly. “See what? What did I miss”. Down on the court, fists clenched in jubilation and mouth agape, letting out a primal scream, was her son, Gary Harris, ecstatic after posterizing three separate Indiana Pacers.
“The dunk, you dummy! Don’t tell me you missed it!” Yolanda was laughing now.
“I missed it! I missed it.” She looked up at the jumbotron hoping for a replay, but none was immediately forthcoming.
“I can’t believe I missed it!”