The Wall Ball Kid

He's back. He was gone for a while, we thought he had moved on, but guess what? Oh wait, I told you that already.

He's back.

The Wall Ball Kid.

That's just what we call him. He could be eleven. He's got a floppy blonde mop of California brat-style hair. We don't know his name, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that one day the whole world will be chanting it. He's got the determination and the discipline that it takes to rise to the top.

Every day, he's out there. You can hear him kicking that basketball off that low brick wall for hours. Left foot, right foot. Turnaround foot behind the back. He's like a hackey-sacker with that thing!

I want to ask for his autograph. Just in case! That's just too awkward, though. There's no way to open that transaction. Plus - can't I see he's busy?

I can hear he's busy. That's for sure. Pum. Pum-pap! Pum pap!-pum.

This kid could be the next Larry Bird, who used to shoot free-throws for hours in a gymnasium in French Lick, Indiana. Except, shooting free throws actually helps you play basketball. This endless foot-dribbling, it's a little harder to see the application. Maybe if they had a sport like soccer in America, he could translate some of those foot-basketball skills to the ol' black and white pentagonal orb. Or maybe there might be some variant version of basketball that arises where you can kick that thing!

I hope so. I'd hate to think of all that effort wasted for no reason.