March Madness

Honestly, would you want to be a basketball player at seven feet, eight inches tall?

The thought arose after watching one such monstrosity recently at the Winthrop Coliseum. Initially, the spectacled blessing of such size seems an incomparable gift for a basketball player. Is it, though? Consider. You make a great play, like dunking the ball without jumping or blocking a shot with your armpit, and everyone laughs. Make anything less than a great play and everyone laughs uncontrolably.

Never mind that no one ever looks at you like a normal person. Never mind that, at more than 90 inches, you are tall enough to ride some rollercoasters twice. Never mind that you are too tall to ride any rollercoaster once. Never mind that beautiful women in the stands could put your basketball shorts on at the shoulder and still sport a modest, though unique, floor-length dress. Never mind that those same women could wear your jersey after the game and mop the floor as they go.

Maybe there is something to being that tall. As for me, though, keep the knee braces. Keep the carnival attraction basketball shoes. Keep the ducked doorways, the custom clothing and the strange looks you have to bend your neck unnaturally to see. Keep it all.