I’ve got a basketball jones.
I always have — or, at any rate, for as long as I can remember.
What’s a basketball jones?
Ever since I was a little baby, I always be dribbling. In fact, I was the baddest dribbler in the whole neighborhood….
I used to practice hours every single day, for years. Those years of practice molded me in more ways than I could ever quantify: physically, psychologically, philosophically.
People who know me now find my basketball jones hard to believe or reconcile with the cocktologist in me, I am not sure why.
The following is for all the disbelievers — and I say that because it comes up with a certain regularity:
One afternoon not too terribly long ago, I asked my videographer friend Johnny Morehouse if he wanted to make an extra fifty bucks. He said yes. This is a fraction of what came out of that ninety-minute session. The video quality isn’t great, but it’s totally real, totally unscripted, totally un-doctored.
I was trying for a full thirty-minute take without a single mistake, but it didn’t quite happen.