The ankles of a Warrior
It happened about 1:15 a.m. last Friday night/Saturday morning. I was on the edge of my couch in Manhattan, about 3,000 miles from Oakland, watching a team I root for trying to survive against a player I root for. The team, San Antonio, was up nine with five minutes left at Golden State.
The player, Stephen Curry, flashed off a screen, caught the pass outside the top of the circle and pump-faked Danny Green off his feet. For a dizzy instant, I expected Curry to hit ...
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