Well, it was a long, stranger trip, but I managed to eek my way onto the London School of Economics Basketball Team, which is perhaps akin to the North Carolinas and Dukes of the world, but who is to say? Some seventy five members tried out for the team, but only the strongest, swiftest, and most American survived.
In the far-off land of White City, these modern day gladiators clawed and drove their way to the basket undefended, some succeeding, some failing gloriously, some uncertain why they were asked to leave after a few measly lay-ups.
In the end, the best were left in "that corner," and though the try-outs were only 5 minutes underway, there was a feeling of pride which could be sensed in the air.
The victors chatted quietly about the future of their homeland, and more importantly, the future of those residing in "that corner." There was an aura that, yes, we may it, but how?
There were goals which lay ahead, but mountains yet to climb, and only one man, a true leader, could take them to the Promised Land. This man was none other than Coach Christoph, aka, the Czar, and though he was softspoken, all who knew him, knew his
furor in all forms.
The first goal took shape in the English Collegiate Basketball League Championships, or something to that effect, and a genuine good-hearted comraderie would be necessary for securing victory. The first obstacle that the LSEBB would have to overcome was the prowess of the most-hated beast in all the land, the Luton Hatedbeasts. No one knew what was to come, no one knew how rocky the road might be, but everyone knew, yes everyone knew...
....there were windsprints to be done.
more to come...
