An Ode to an Anonymous Basketball Player

A giant man once said to me
I cannot live so quietly
So off he went to the NBA
Getter bigger by the day
Faking left, shooting high
Breaking holes into the sky
Or the ceiling, at the very least
Truly this man is a beast
ACL intact, not for long
How could things ever go so wrong?
From man to god and from god to man
And still support from every fan
A few felonies and a misdemeanor
Can we make him any meaner?
Steroids, cocaine and alcohol
Such a long way left to fall
Gravity does tend to overcome
The magic talents of this one

[Editor's Note: In the interest of protecting the integrity of her writing, Iuns wants to make clear that this is a RHYME, NOT a poem. -Billynho]... Read on for why the distinction is important:

I just want to make it clear to my readers that what they have just experienced is most certainly not a poem. It is a rhyme. But why might Iuns feel the distinct and urgent need to embellish upon her heart wrenching and artistic masterpiece? Alright, I'll bow to the intensive pressure of your curious natures and explain:

Example: a poem about a writer's favorite brown haired fowl
Tends to mean : the writer recently lost her dearest and closest grandmother, sold her step children and their precious toys for collateral, moved into a picturesque mud-floored cottage off the coast of El Salvador, and bought an alligator as a pet.

As it happens, I hate deeper meanings, significance, and any other motives sneakily hiding in the lines of normally inane writing, waiting to pounce on you from the guerrilla battleground of literary analysis. I wish I could retaliate with expletives in the form of deadly and destructive bombs, erasing the unnecessary descriptions of waterfowl, beautiful scenery and writer's innermost feelings from the face of literature today. So please please please don't insult my little rhyme by bestowing upon it the title of poem in your minds!

Finally, to make this post clear the high standards of sports blogging and ensure Billynho posts this:
football = Drew Brees = happiness

Ahem, thank you for your poem rhyme, Iuns! -B