If you asked, I bet not many people could tell you exactly where they were on February

28, 2001.

Surprisingly, that day contains one of my most vivid early memories.

It was a Wednesday, and I remember it being pretty overcast, as most winter days in the

Pacific Northwest are, I guess.

It was chilly and a bit wet, so my fifth

grade class spent most of the day indoors. Ahead of lunch, my class had PE. While we would

normally spend that time outdoors, the cool and misty weather took us to the school's gymnasium.

Some of the kids in my class were taking turns climbing the rope ladder, or jumping rope,

stuff like that, while half of the gym had been set aside for kids to play basketball.

Being a huge Seattle Supersonics fan back then, I always took the chance to shoot some hoops and pretend that I was Gary Payton,

even though I was just an average height white kid who most definitely could not ball like the glove could.

PE was winding down about five minutes before the top of the hour, and the game I was playing

was coming to a close. I had the ball at about mid-court, and as the PE teacher blew the

whistle, signaling it was time to begin clean up, I decided to just chuck the ball toward

the hoop. I didn't expect it to go in, of course, but I thought, why not?

If I made this shot, I would look like a god.

And even if I missed it, it might be kind of funny.

My elementary school's gymnasium had the basketball hoops that were adjustable,

so staff could raise them or lower them, even pivot them side to side.

Well, when I threw the ball against the backboard, it slammed against it, hard.

Then the basketball hoop did something I didn't expect.

...