John Henson's Fear of the Rim

His wingspan is seven feet, and with arms like that, one would think he could fly just by flapping them.  One would think that he would have no problem hoisting an orange sphere from the foul line to the rim, with arms like that.  But he does.

John Henson is scared of the rim.


So scared that he air balls foul shots.  So scared that shooting anything even approaching 50% would be a drastic sign of improvement.  So what gives?

How does an athletic chimera go from KG comparisons out of high school and Andrei Kirilenko stat lines to a man synonymous with just grazing the rim, like a fly, like a flea, like something of no significance?

When John Henson comes to the line in his Carolina blue uniform, what does he see?  What does the Rorschach test of the rim look like to the kid for whom "the sky [was] the limit?"

Does he see a bear trap that at the slightest hint of weight or movement might snap through flesh?

Does he see a guillotine, soaked in blood, heads rolling like basketballs?

Does he see a black hole and fears the unknown, not knowing where such made baskets might lead him?  Is that the sound of God or the Devil in the rush of a ball falling through the net?

Or is he simply afraid to take the crown, unsure if his chicken legs and neck can support the weight of legends?