|A younger Moses.|
I can’t remember who said it, whether it was my granddad at the kitchen table, by some folkloric wood stove, or my uncle out in the driveway, weeping willow branches bending behind the backboard. But someone talked of Moses Malone and how he twice slayed the mighty Comets of Halifax County. What’s so strange about the telling is how no matter who told it the voice of the defeated rang with loud pride. These people—my family—were happy to have lost because of who had beaten them. His name, with its mythic metronome, was larger than any state championship run ever could be. And so Moses Malone moved and sifted through my early memories of how people talk about greatness and how children learn to shoot baskets in midst of this nearby talk. And I wrote about it at The Classical.
(Also, for more on the actual games between Halifax and Malone's Petersburg, here is an article written by Tom McLaughlin for SoVaNow.com.)
Bryan Harvey tweets @LawnChairBoys.