Do you want to fly high in the air like Michael Jordan, and under the gaze of everyone, the tie rod will sway over four opponents and throw the ball out?

Look at your short legs and your big belly.

Why do you love basketball?

Did you imitate Kobe shaking around the baseline, playing ball with your opponent and sending the ball to the basket by wiping your fingertips?

Think about your poor sense of balance. If you can't even do half of this action, you will fall backwards and die.

Why do you love basketball?

You fantasize about blocking the ball like Mutombo, and then pouting your lips and shaking your fingers, whispering: Is this a no-fly zone?

Reach out and see for yourself how thin and short it is. It can only support you to get up awkwardly after being knocked down.

Why do you love basketball?

Have you ever dreamed of opening your hands after shooting a three-pointer like Arenas and being proud of being the king of the world in the cheers of the audience?

Only you know how countless air balloons are thrown irregularly by you, which makes the girls around you laugh.

Why do you love basketball?

Do you think you can sway a tall opponent with cross steps and legs in disguise like Iverson, and then walk past him disdainfully?

Well, we both know that you can't control the damn ball in your hand.

Since you can't do it,

So, please tell me: Why do you love basketball?

Think about those worn elbows, deformed ankles, stiff knees, strained muscles, blood oozing from gauze, and dull pain in broken bones! Think about your sore back in rainy days and the itching when the surgical wound is closed. Think about you limping out of the classroom like an old man and packing your schoolbag and going home alone. Think about the fear of going deep into the bone marrow the night before I first put steel bars in my body.

Why do you still love basketball? !

Think about the sweat that runs out in summer, the dizzy world and the tumbling food after heatstroke, think about sprinting back, think about the vomit lying in the corner, and think about your twitching legs. Think about the last scene of strangling yourself in the gym every time. Think about every time you get tired and climb into bed or even squat down to go to the bathroom.

Why do you still love basketball? !

Think about what parents said: what to play, basketball can't be eaten! Think about the teacher throwing the failed test paper in your face and telling you not to wear ball pants to class in the future; Think of those hooligans who hit you with the ball and order you not to step into this stadium again or you will look good; Think about how much time you lost in your study for this thing. Look at other people's children pushing glasses to display the admission notice of famous universities in a low-key way. Look at your parents' embarrassed faces.

Think about this and tell me, have you ever regretted it for so many years?

Tell me, why do you still love basketball? !

I play basketball. I am not good at it.

Maybe sometimes it will be good, sometimes it will be really bad. I have no ability to drive people crazy, but sometimes I do drive myself crazy.

I'm not tall or fat. I don't have a good bounce to complete a dazzling dunk, and I don't have the power of terror to rule all my opponents.

Yes, as you can see, I'm just an ordinary person.

I can't fold in the air to avoid the defensive score. In fact, I spend very little time in the air.

I can't sneak past my opponent by foot and finish the attack by teasing. In fact, sometimes I may be the latter;

Of course, sometimes I happen to get some blocked shots, but many times the bigger opponent will cover the ball directly on my face.

Three points? Of course I like it, but to be honest, the hit rate is as good as winning the lottery ticket bought by my father.

And my favorite-those fancy crotch dribbling, playful movements, of course, I only met in videos and imagination-I don't want to be shaken to death by myself.

But, yes, you heard me right: I have loved basketball for many years and I have never regretted it.

Never.

Five or six swollen fingers? A dozen small bruises all over the body? A scar? A little meniscus missing? Ulnar olecranon fracture? A knee that can't bend? Can't sneeze on your waist? Brittle ankle or deformed toe? What else is there? Or worse: steel bars above the forearm bones? Dozens of X-rays and MRI photos. Some small ligaments are torn all over the body?

What else do you want? Be careful not to do strenuous exercise all your life? Or the whole lost life? Come on, you have to admit that the fucking world is full of accidents.

Let's talk about what else I have: dozens of friends I know because of basketball, a few irrelevant life circles, a few friends and brothers who can talk about their troubles, and a few buddies who can keep themselves awake at a critical moment. Or the girls I met on the court and fate, who knows?

A friend will give you half a bottle of water when you are tired, or will not hesitate to take half a bottle of water in your hand and pour it down; If you sprain your ankle, you will run out and buy you popsicles and put them on the ice, riding a small broken bike and laughing at you all the way to send you home; If you are sad, you won't ask more questions if you play ball with you until midnight; There are also scum who sit at the dinner table during the holiday time and brag and fart and play mahjong all afternoon.

What else do you want?

After the game on the court, high-five to celebrate, chest bump call sign; The glory of victory and the fingers held high; Tears of failure and bitter smiles comfort each other. Basketball tells you that if we fail, we will carry each other. If you win, we should sing together. A person raises himself as a stepmother in the gym in order not to be so easily knocked down by his opponent next time; A person practices dribbling with the lamp next door in the middle of the night just to stop being a burden to the team.

Even if you do nothing, when you have nothing, try to walk to the stadium with a basketball, and you will have the whole world.

This is a short story about me, my world, my life, me and basketball.

Yes, as you can see, I'm not tall or fat.

I'm just the most ordinary person.

Maybe I don't know anything, maybe my hard work sucks like shit, maybe my imitation is just funny, maybe I will show it to the whole team.