Dunk dreams

Ahh the slam dunk.

I was in seventh-grade the first time I saw one live. I was at an inter-team Clawson High basketball scrimmage and a group of us begged Jon Jansen — now an offensive tackle for the Washington Redskins — to dunk for us.

Soon after, I made a bet with my cousin, Gil — who was my age — that someday we would be the ones dunking.

After all, we were both tall for our age and could touch his neighbor Tommy’s rim at the time, which may or may not have reached 8 feet.

Fifteen years later, and I haven’t so much as nicked the rim on a regulation-size hoop — 10 feet.

Once in high school, at the height of my athleticism, I was apparently close, or so an observer said, but he could have been lying.

Gil, for his efforts, can get a few fingers around the hoop, but is also dunkless in his career.

Nowadays, I sit in gyms and watch these high schoolers throw it down with ease. It’s almost become routine, seeing them flying through the air, mocking me with every inch that they ascend.

It's not to say I can’t dunk with the best of them when a rim suits my leaping ability. In fact, I’m the “2006 Pat’s backyard Slam Dunk Champion.”

I won it with power and grace. As the sun went down and the porch lights came on, I wowed the judges — Pat’s brothers, Jimmy and Tim.

My friend and coworker, Jeremy, came in second after dunking with his shirt pulled over his head — a played-out move, in my opinion, and all the less impressive because I’m pretty sure he could see through it — but it was my off-the-backboard extravaganza (also very played out) that took the crown.

So go on — Drew Maynard of Lake Orion, Damacious White of Berkley High, Nick West of Royal Oak High and all the rest of the local dunksters — throw it down.
But know this: I own 8 feet.