There's that moment where your feet launch off the court, ball in hand, with a target that some might call a mile away.
But not you.
As you ascend, the rim might as well be just an armslength. You know there is no question, no debate, no earthly way that ball is going anywhere other than to be swaddled, for a split second, by the soft fingers of the net, and net alone.
You hear it. You only hear it.
Because you've long turned away, with a bead of sweat falling from your nose, complete in the fulfillment of what you foresaw.
BasketBill™ knows that feeling.
BasketBill is that feeling.
