I am in mourning. Nothing can console me, for I am far too deep in the waters of sorrow. John Henson’s post game was once so full of life; now it rests six feet under, its vitality taken by the cruel hand of Jason Kidd and his ruthless coaching staff.
We must now be content only with our memories of John Henson’s post game. Lefty hooks, so graceful, so deft. Who knows what other moves he could have developed, if only given the time? Time that seems so plentiful to us, but of which not a second can be given to things that have passed. Perhaps a right hook could have been added, or a drop-step. We will not ever know, can not ever know.