[Originally published May 6, 2003.]

Prenatal Hoop Dreams

by Nick Jezarian

Y GOD, look at the size of this kid’s feet. He’s gonna be a monster. What do you mean how can I tell? Just look at them. We have to get this kid into Pete Newell’s Big Man camp A.S.A.P. Pete Newell’s, he coaches all the best N.B.A. centers in the summer. Out in Hawaii. Oh, our boy will love Hawaii, just look at him.

Honey, honey, don’t worry, Pete Newell’s Big Man Camp accepts young people too. No, no, he’s not too young. You’re crazy. Not quite as crazy as when you thought I was going to really stab you with that steak knife. I know. You’re right, I did chase you around the house. Yes, I suppose I was relentless. But you spilled A-1 on yourself. I was kidding; I wasn’t really going to cut you like a steak. Oh, come on, I just said that.

Bygones, honey, bygones. Look at this kid. That’s my boy, you’re my boy! He can hear me just fine, he’s not deaf.

Hey, doc, you know LeBron James went straight to the pros from high school? Yeah, they’ve been recruiting him supposedly since he was in 7th or 8th grade. My boy? He’s gonna sign a deal in the next few weeks. I’m not crazy doc, and you should watch what comes out of your jaw box over there. I’m payin’ your bills remember.

Honey, look at the size of his head! He’s gonna be a seven-footer for sure. This will be wonderful. I have calls into Coach K, the Syracuse cue ball, what’s his name? Boeheim—that’s it, thanks Doc—and I put in a call to the N.B.A. to see what his chances are for the draft.

Nice spin, baby, yeah! That’s my motherfucking son. You’re right honey, I’ll watch my language, not in front of the lad. But you know he’s going to learn it traveling from city to city? He’s going to be a young millionaire. He might even sow some oats if you know what I mean. Ouch! O.K., we’ll teach him right from wrong sure.

His arms look long. Wonderful, wonderful. I wonder if I should look into West Coast schools for him too? Oh what am I talking about, let’s just convince him to go straight to the pros. He’s going to be huge with a capital U, UGE! You like that one, doc? I made it up myself. Be careful or I’ll make him dunk on your M.D. ass.

Honey, you say its just a sonogram but that’s my son. He’s gonna be a pro player. Oh, come now, I’m not being ridiculous. What? 5’5” Jewish kids can’t make the pros? So I married an anti-Semite? Oh, please, I wasn’t trying to stick a basketball in your private place for no reason honey? Yeah, I read that the earlier they start holding a ball, the better. In the crib, no, that would have been too late.

Hey, Doc, I bet you’ve never even seen a left hand like that? My son’s going to the N.B.A. U.C.L.A.! That’s where I’m sending him, the pros can wait. Honey, I’ll be right back, I’m going to call U.C.L.A. What? Security? Get your hands off me, Doc. DOC!

O.K., honey, I’ll see you at home, I have plans to make.

“It has been my dream to attend your university since age five.”

“Last year my father contributed $5,000 to your general endowment fund.”

“I can fit my fist into my mouth.”

“I’m easy.”

“My therapist says I can have supervised visits with my family in two to three months.”

“I am generally liked and well respected by my teachers and classmates.”

“The judge says he might reduce my sentence to time served.”

“Man, I got so high last night.”

“Essays suck.”

“My father is the dictator of a small African nation.”

“If you don’t grant me admission I will kill myself.”

“I deserve to get in.”

“My father, my father’s father, and my father’s father’s father are alumna of your distinguished institution.”

“I’m hot.”

“I spent thousands of dollars on private test preparation and college counseling.”

“I love your school colors.”

“Your football team rocks.”

“I love to learn and stuff.”

“I hand-delivered my college application.”

“My last name rhymes with Bush.”

“Last summer, at band camp.”

“I visited your campus—twice.”

“I’m always the first to raise my hand.”

“College campuses would be much safer places if students were allowed to carry guns.”

“There I was, the only fat kid in gym.”

“God wants me to go to your college.”

“I’ve been a repeat contestant on American Idol.”

“I already bought a hooded sweatshirt with your college’s name on it and told everyone I got in.”

“When I’m not saving orphans in Nepal, I’m finding a cure for cancer.”

“You know you’ll accept me because you need underachievers like me to feel good about yourself.”

HARLES BUKOWSKI, the “Poet Laureate of Skid Row” had humble beginnings. He was born Charles Brown, aka Charlie. His parents were somewhat cold and distant. They talked in odd muted trumpet-like voices that were unintelligible to almost everyone. As a young adult, in an effort to put his conflictual relationship with his parents behind him, he changed his last name to Bukowski.

The trajectory of Charlie Bukowski’s life from being a melancholy pessimistic boy to alcoholic, whore-loving misanthrope can be said to start with his friendship with Bobby “Pigpen” Jones. Charlie first met Pigpen while lying flat on his back after a football “mishap.” Pigpen was a dirty, ostracized young boy. And while many may have seen Charlie’s other childhood friend, Linus Fitzgerald, as a great influence in his early life, it would be Pigpen that Charlie referred to in an interview when he stated: “He helped me get off my back that day with a dusty hand. And the grit of that dust was etched forever into my flesh.” Pigpen would come to represent an almost zenlike, careless disregard to anything wholesome and clean which Charlie came to emulate.

Clearly, though, one of the main themes in Charlie Bukowski’s life was his conflictual relationship with women. He was married several times. But once his writing career began to gain some traction, he took to one night stands and love affairs. Charlie detailed many of these trysts in his book Women: Always Leaving Me Flat on My Back. More than one biographer has drawn a rather clear line through all the females that Charlie took up with. That line begins with the Little Red-Haired Girl, an elusive femme fatale who plagued Charlie’s listless and insulated childhood. He drew up a near-obsessive focus on this young woman who “never once noticed even the single greasy strand of hair on my prematurely balding head.” This line ends with Pamela O’Brien (aka “Cupcakes” due to her buxom nature) a redheaded single mother. Charlie tried to recreate this fantasy woman in every relationship right up to Cupcakes. When Cupcakes painfully left him for Linus Fitzgerald, Charlie “swore off of f***** red heads for the rest of my life.”

Noted literature critic, Michael McCall, after culling through all sixty of Charlie’s published books, also notes the reoccurring theme of footballs (and especially their connection to devious women) in Charlie’s writing. Footballs show up through-out the poetry collections: Dangling in Midair Before Falling, Slouching Toward the End Zone and Pigskin Ballet. Maybe more so than the Little Red-Haired Girl did a girl named Lucy (thought to be a pseudonym) seem to affect Charlie’s life. The image of this girl, in particular, snatching away the infamous footballs (perhaps a metaphor for sobriety) reoccurs numerous times throughout his work. Lucy also showed up as a figure in the dreamlike short story “The Devil Is Lucy,” in which she tries to counsel a morose young boy in a pretend game of psychologist. Her final refrain: “You are a loser, Charlie Brown” could easily have been a summation of this man’s life. This theme, however, becomes most obvious in the epitaph on his tombstone. Below the phrase “Don’t Try” is the inscription, “Here I lie flat on my back, staring skyward, just as I did so many times when the football was taken away. I think I’ll just stay put now.”

New litter of 6 chocolate labs for sale. I love them dearly, but a single woman can’t handle them all. They’re good-natured, playful and beautiful beyond belief. Just come see them at 22 Larchmont Drive. Take a left after the Thai restaurant and go up the hill. Larchmont is the first right, and we’re the fourth house on the left. I am a stripper.

Corgi puppies from award-winning breeders need a new home. Ever since we had dogs, we’ve never been burglarized and our kids haven’t been bullied. We haven’t had any major illnesses, haven’t been slandered in the press, and have avoided car accidents, shark attacks, any major repercussions from colony collapse disorder. We’ve cheated on our taxes without being caught. My job is secure, though I fire people with impunity. All we eat are Funyuns and are in perfect health. The guy down the street bought a cat, and he broke his hip. I’m pretty sure he’s a woman living inside a man’s body, too. 1515 Patcong Ave, behind the Price Chopper.

Friendly, mixed-breed puppies for sale. 3 months old. In that time, the owner, an experienced trainer, has taught them each the following:

— How to sit, stand, roll over and fetch.
— Basic obedience techniques and the ability to speak on command.
— Narcotics and bomb detection skills.
— Wedding planning.

Irish setter puppies for sale. $5 each. Pick one up and show your love now, because one day in the not-too-distant future, dogs will rule the world and fish will walk among us. Even now, dogs and fish sit on most corporate boards and have a permanent seat on the U.N. Security Council. I have proof. Take a right on 82 and go to the vacant lot across from the diaper factory.

Beautiful pure-bred puppies for sale. Friendly, loving and opposed to cultural relativism. Puppies understand that identity and cross-cultural understanding are not oppositional forces, and are developing their own meta-language to overcome distortions and make valid connections across all breeds. They will soon be publishing extensively. $27 each. In front of the Hopewell Jct. Grand Union.

Super-cute puppies 4 sale! I am severely disabled and the puppies think I am food. Please come quickly.

For sale: puppy. You can’t tell by this photo, but this puppy looks EXACTLY like Denzel Washington. Want to cut in line at BJ’s? No problem, Denzel can make it happen. Need an extra towel at the Y? They’ll give 3 to Denzel! And no more waiting in line at Chili’s, ’cause Denzel don’t wait for no nachos. 34 Nipmuck Drive.

4 puppies, a bottle of schnapps, me, and a cellphone. In the alley behind Club Eruptions.