Practice! Practice!! Practice!!!!

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On Thursday night, I stayed up an hour and a half later than I usually do.

Kentucky was playing freaking Kansas State and since that entire region had blown up...

...I was the only guy who would score points with a Kentucky win.

And a funny thing happened.

A kid named Washington kept going to the free throw line...

...and clanking free throws.

I yelled at him late in the 2nd half and scared my poor sleeping dog.

Practice!

The kid's form wasn't bad.

"It's in his head now," the announcer said.

And I thought back to my own playing days.

I was a really good free-throw shooter.

We used to practice a lot during the JV Days and we would document how many we made out of 30.

One day, I made all 30.

The guy who was rebounding for me told the coach that I hadn't missed yet and a bunch of people gathered around as I kept going.

I made it to 44 in a row. The coach gave me an autograph of Nate "Tiny" Archibald.

(Chris Slupinski, later in the year, shattered that record, making 69 straight).

Washington went to the line with the chance to tie the game.

"He's 8 for 19," the announcer told us.

"Just make THIS ONE!" I growled.

CLANK!

 Kentucky lost by one and the chance of taking over first in a bracket that contains 126 entries...

...was lost.

(I don't even want to mention who was in 126th place - Jeffy - I don't want to embarrass him).

Sam texted me from the living room.

"Washington ruined you!" He wrote.

"I hate him!" I answered.

And I never really got it.

Wilt was an awful free-throw shooter. Shaq was worse.

But those guys were over 7' tall.

Washington looked the part.

All it takes is practice, right?

Ah well.

It could be worse.

I could be in 126th place.




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