At around 5 p.m. on Wednesday, I was still wondering exactly how the rebounding thing was going to happen. Much too windy, thus shooting with Annette in the wild outdoors was out, and nobody was on the schedule to add the personal touch, so …
Mom called and saved the day, just as moms tend to do.
She and Grampa Paul were going to be in the area, and … “Do you need some help?”
They provided more than some help, taking on the tall task of a two-ball routine, with one rebounder and one hander-offer, then after each 100 … SWITCH! And just as poetry doesn’t always have to rhyme to be beautiful, this was beautiful despite its lack of rhyme or rhythm … 1,500 in under an hour and 40 minutes, to be kind of exact.
They both got a workout, and we climbed to the brink of 19 percent in the process, at 189,507 down, 810,493 to go to 1 million made foul shots.
Thanks, Paul. And for probably the 1 millionth time in my life (and counting) … Thanks, Mom.