Maybe it was the name, all six of them, that seemed to stretch for eternity. Maybe it was the face that looked like it was carved from Easter Island stone. Maybe it was the elbows sharp enough to break the Sphinx's nose. Maybe it was the laughter deeper than any ocean, or maybe it was the heart, beating like a star, into the dark places of humanity, bringing light; but I thought you were beyond age and limits, Dikembe. I thought perhaps your journey from the Congo to America had found you younger, like a successful Ponce de Leon, but even great stone walls in Zimbabwe eventually crumble; so it comes to an end here, on the same end of the floor where your finger wagged like the second hand to Father Time's clock. You were one of a kind, and you will be missed.
Journeys over maps are not far when one's heart encompasses the globe.
Dikembe Mutombo of the Houston Rockets
In Dikembe Mutombo, In Lupe Fiasco, In NBA, In TeachApril 22, 2009
Related Posts:
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
The saddest part about all of this is when I think of him the first thing that comes to mind isn't him lying down crying after beating the Sonics, his talent of defense, his ability to hype the dunk contest year in-and-out since 92, the wagging of his finger, his deep voice, or even his charity work. Instead the first thing that comes to mind is "Who wants to sex Mutombo?"
April 22, 2009 at 11:21 PMhttp://www.themightymjd.com/2005/04/12/who-wants-to-sex-mutombo/
Is that one of those rhetorical questions?
April 23, 2009 at 2:54 PMI would say its more pompous or sonorous, that is if the story is indeed true.
April 23, 2009 at 9:01 PMPost a Comment