A girl last night drove to the basket, picked up her dribble in the lane, jumped,
(not even sure if she jumped off one foot or two) and came down with one foot in front of the other, not even close to simultaneously. I thought she had changed her mind in mid-air and gotten disoriented. Partner and I both whistled the travel.
Coach stood up with hands on hips. "We teach that move. That is not a travel."
In spite of myself, I laughed a little.
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I swear, Gus, you'd argue with a possum.
It'd be easier than arguing with you, Woodrow.
Lonesome Dove
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