Tony Parker forgot how long he waited for for the inbound pass before noticing RJ was no longer at the sideline trying to get the ball past the Jazz defender. Tony scanned the court to see only three others: Deron Williams, Chris Paul and Devin Harris. The stands, the bench and the crowds disappeared, replaced by a smooth black wall. No exit.
The ball dribbled itself at center court like a digital clock. It did not waiver left or right from the axis of its trajectory. Nor did it loose momentum on the bounce -- it fell back to Earth at the same zenith.
Tony, Deron, Chris and Devin simultaneously looked at each other then sprinted for the ball.
The blazing fast Parker was a breath closer than his rivals, but the ball seemed to be getting further away, shrinking to the head of a pin, an orange infintesimal. Tony found another gear. He had to have the ball. Tony knew that if any of the other players reached the ball first they would not pass it. Tony would not pass it. The end of the quarter buzzed with a long trilling ring...
Tony kicked the down comforter about him, grasping his pillow tightly to his chest.
"Mon Dieu! Hell is other point guards!"
Tony steadied himself and relaxed his grip on the pillow, breathing deep. He pulled back the pleated curtains to could see the last light of the setting sun: 5:48 pm. His nap went long.
The phone kept ringing. Tony jostled the receiver.
"Beno! Long time, mon ami. You are well, I hope. Coming to the poker game? Sure you are invited over, Eva will pick up extra Frosties and pommes frites from Wendy's. There will be enough for your girlfriend -- she is invited, too."