Benny the Bull

I was simply enjoying the entertainment of the professional athlete and showman known around the world as Benny the Bull. There were nearly 200 kids swarming for his attention and affection. Of all those people, he turns to me, me! I guess in his endless pursuit of being a world class entertainer he saw me as a prime "photo opportunity". He sent out an invitation for me to play a little one-on-one. I obliged, simply to help him fulfill his duties, desires, hopes, dreams and large paycheck. Obviously, the fan favorite, he quickly gained fan support in order to make an example of the tall, stringy fellow. My eyes saw this; a cocky little son-of-a-gun who needed a little dose of humble pie. He blew by me with ease, but in basketball, to get past Aaron Koehler, is not to have beaten Aaron Koehler. As so learned by Benny on that fateful night. His rise to the rim was swift, graceful, and gentle. However, the abrupt result of my right hand stopping all progress and motion, redirecting his dunk into the backboard and back into my hands, was NOT what he had intended. My enjoyment of seeing the Legendary Benny tumble to the ground in embarrassment was not shared by many.

Fully clad in his big, red, fuzzy suit, the spotlight was his, until that moment. And he wanted it back, badly. Hence, him coming back for more, slapping the ground and waving his hands, as if to say, "bring it on, oh great haired one". I did as the entertainer asked. I brought it right between his legs and to the rim for a monster one handed, Amare Stoudamire dunk. Coincidentally enough, the very dunk he wanted me to witness. I never heard another word from Benny that night.