Hotep,
I’m sure we’re all familiar with the cliché, “Things could be worse.”
In most cases, it’s just a convenient response to rationalize life’s pitfalls.
When I first came to the row, that cliché seemed to be the mantra amongst the prisoners.
I didn’t understand it at first.
I mean, I was like, “How can it get any worse than this?”
As time moved on, I delved into my inner being, grasping my spirituality as a means of learning my purpose in this realm of life.
That journey helped me to understand that things could be worse.
Like, enduring this death sentence without the support of my fam. That’s a scary thought, indeed.
My big brother, “D,” has been in my corner since day one.
He encouraged me to be a difference maker long before I got this death sentence.
Playing football as a youngsta, my big bro would be on the sidelines encouraging me to be the game changer.
He witnessed me catch my first touchdown and he was overwhelmed with pride when I dropped the hammer on the ball carrier on the ensuing kickoff. Real talk.
He gave me my first basketball, a Wilson.
He bought my first pair of leather kicks, red and white Converse (Dr. J’s).
He introduced me to the game, injecting me with a lifetime dosage of b-ball memories.
I’ve been in love with this game ever since I laid hands on that Wilson b-ball at 8 years of age.
My love for this game is what validates me as the MannofStat, a b-ball junkie who doesn’t mind sharing his fix with the masses.
Without “D” there would be no MannofStat. Na mean?
I recognize the real. “Things could be worse.”
I could’ve gone through life not knowing my big bro, not loving b-ball and never being encouraged to be a difference maker…an existence without purpose.
Well, I’m glad that I’m not that person.
Your MannofStat is here
Ain’t running nowhere,
Ain’t going nowhere,
Ain’t hiding nowhere. Ya heard?
With that said, you can call me concussion cause I’m out.
One love “D”
MannofStat
Copyright © 2010 by Leroy Mann
Good stuff but you game was alright I dont know how good it got in there, out here I carry you on my back, I try to make you the player I was, but you wouldnt follow my lead, you had a Mike Bibby or Herny game, whatever the Lord have plan for you, follow his lead, and he grant you a second chance in this messed up world make the best of it, Go be with your son and you grand baby, this life is short, as we struggle in philly to survie, You are still alive, your son looks like you, but always remember, HighRise aka Greg was Legend before Wil Smith
ReplyDeleteHighrise! What's good Dunn! It's been a minute since I've heard from you. No words. No visit. No flix. Why the hiatus? In any case, I'm glad that you decided to leave the shadows of the sidelines and step back onto the court. Na mean?
ReplyDeleteYour game was aight, but if my memory serves me correctly, you always had me to feed you the rock (e.g. The 12 & under league when we played for the sonics). You were Paul Silas and I was "Downtown" Freddie Brown. That championship led to your first trophy.
We also reigned supreme in the "Sweetness League" & the 4th Street District Team. You had the athleticism, but I was the facilitator. If you were a legend it's because I was the storyteller. LOL
I'm in the game of my life Highrise. The game is tight, but my focus is impenetrable. As this game winds down, my decision making is impeccable. I appreciate you getting back in the game, but I'll be the one taking the final shot before the buzzer sounds. Word is bond!
Peace,
MannofStat