Mini #4 -Francesca Galarus

The only person that I can really think of that I wish that was famous (besides you, Ron, as a drummer) is Quamir. I met Quamir when I volunteered at the Salvation Army After-School Program. He was four, and quite possibly the best basketball player that I have ever seen. All he ever wanted to do was play, so I did my best to keep up with him.

During the first couple of weeks, I used to tell him all the time that I thought he should play in the NBA. I would tell him to remember me and give me money for being one of the basketball coaches that shaped his performance. I began to realize that other people must have been telling him the same kind of things because his reaction was usually a matter-of-fact, “I know, I am going to play for the NBA.”

After I noticed that there were all these people blowing smoke up this poor little four-year-old’s ass, I started to tell Quamir that he should go to college and finish even if he got recruited. I switched roles because I didn’t want to fill his head with false hope. For some reason I took it upon myself to be his voice of reason and give him practical advice.

But, it seemed, it was almost too late. Quamir knew he was good. When he played, he always kicked my ass. But not only that, he would cheer for himself, imitate crowd noises and talk as if there were commentators watching him play. When he made a basket, which was often, he would pose and congratulate himself. He would even talk a little shit when other kids wanted to play with us.

I decided after meeting Quamir, to not fill people’s heads with false hope, especially the younger set. It has become easier to “make it,” but not for the things that people really want to be famous for. Sure, you can scale a building in a penguin suit for your fifteen minutes, when you think about it, how many kids really make it to play professional basketball? But if he does, which he might, I wonder if he’ll remember me?