FanPost

Ginobili vs. Dracula, Chapter 38

In which Phil Jackson can't go back, and Tony Parker can't go forward.

You may be coaching the Heat in 2011.

The email sat ontop a list of 231 unread others in the inbox of Renfield18@lakers.com.

Phil Jackson stopped checking them an hour ago. So tired. He thought of his aging mentor, Tex Winter. When would he be charged with the corruption of a replacement. He downed another glass of the Argentenian Malbec, then banged his firsts into the closest, hardest surfaces he could reach.

A photo turned backwards on the wall shook with each reverberated punch. Phil grabbed a 1991 Championship Plaque from his desk and hurtled it against the wall. It richochetted over the backwards frame. The glass shattered on the polished concrete to bounce free a team portrait of the '73 Knicks.

Phil shattered upon seeing the image again, so ago longed he turned in backwards in shame. All of this -- giving Jordan to him, and everything else -- was to recapture that feeling. He never did.  He knelt to trace Bill Bradley's shoulders. Glass stuck on his hand as he rubbed Earl Monroe's afro. Coach Jackson did not notice, having no blood left to draw.


* * * * *

Bloomberg reports that Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Palm Beach and Florida Keys face a 61-80 percent chance of BP’s tar balls reaching their popular beaches and precious real estate.  They face a greater probability of being affected because the black oil has entered the Gulf’s Loop Current, which snakes eastward and around the tip of Florida.  If the nasty tar balls arrive on the billion-dollar beaches of Miami, Palm Beach and Ft. Lauderdale, the real estate market and coastal Florida economy could face a catastrophe.


Dracula dropped the iphone 8G for a moment.  To see an ocean die in real time -- exquisite. The Dark Prince stroked the hair of his nearest bride, as she napped beneath a gossamer sheet on the divan. He heard a dribble at the border of silence, growing closer. Convenient. The Heat could use a quick point guard.

He flipped on the device to email Jackson when the dribble stopped. A squeak of rubber on hard wood: a pivot foot. Another sound like a wind. Then a dribble again, a different cadence and much closer.

Tony Parker passed the ball.

This is fan-created content on PoundingtheRock.com. The opinion here is not necessarily shared by the editorial staff at Pounding the Rock.

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