I started off a QEHS Wildcat.
Wearing a red jersey and number 5.
Ended up a Massey-Vanier Viking.
Changed teams, same color as my family`s eyes.
Playing as a guard, setting up the plays.
Practice twice a week, games on Saturdays.
Three man weave, running suicides.
Traveling with the team, we all felt so alive.
I was a king on the court, a clutch player.
Playing street ball, competing against all these strangers.
A couple of broken fingers, stitches and sprained ankles.
Waking up in pain, cause of cramps in my calf muscles.
Mini-basketball hoop in my room, I would play for hours.
Watching NC double A, and the Toronto Raptors !!!
Started the sport because of my older brother.
In the driveway, playing one on one against each other
Followed in his footsteps, inbound check.
Winners out, make it, take it, where`s the respect.
Quitters never win, winners never quit.
Back then I thought it was all a bunch of bullshit.
But as you get older, you start believing in it.
Its funny how it all changes so quick.

Inside the paint, In the key.
Beyond the arc, outside for the three.
Fast break, easy lay-up.
Finger roll, pump fake, and hook shots.
Pick and roll, give and go.
Up high, down low.
Call it off the glass.
Behind the back, no look pass.

Follow through, with a high goose-neck.
Whipping off the sweat like Jeff Hornacek.
Nowadays I need a sec, huff and puff just to catch my breath.
Face the basket, Triple threat, stance.
Wearing plastic goggles, like Horace Grant.
Not in my house, Dikembe Mutombo
A capital T, scared on the arm, of Timmy Croteau.
Call me Scottie Pippen or Chris Mullen.
White man can’t jump, Woody Harrelson
Never could touch rim,
Could only touch the nylon mesh.
But I’ll do anything to win.
Even if I have to sit on the bench
Block, rebound and steal on the defense
Tear drop, floater, over top of the giants.
Drive on the baseline, slither like a snake.
Five foot nine, with a shake and bake
Can`t catch the ball ,with your butter fingers.
Can`t make your foul shots, under pressure.
Fade away jumper, dish off the rock
Sport the old school shorts, with the knee high socks

Inside the paint, In the key.
Beyond the arc, outside for the three.
Fast break, easy lay-up.
Finger roll, pump fake, and hook shots.
Pick and roll, give and go.
Up high, down low.
Call it off the glass.
Behind the back, no look pass