BACK TO COURT.......OR SOMEWHERE NEAR THE COURT ATLEAST

So outta boredom and idleness (no place to go for marketing and no MD to tell me what to do), I’m sitting on the front desk officer’s seat (not like she’s here either plus browsing with her PC gives you the cinema feeling… imagine chatting on a 62-inch screen… whew… right in my face).

I decided to browse for some information (not like I found anything; it's not like I was really looking, 'cause I’ve been Facebooking and following BBA5).

And while doing that, I came across something really creative, interesting, and kinda introspective and it got me thinking like, what the hell are you doing? Sitting behind tables without files, speaking all kinds of English (some of which I don’t even understand), marketing services and items through which most individuals rip off their company and even Nigeria of their little money.

You think I’m lying? Go investigate the staff in the procurement department… some of them are richer than the CEO. Don’t ask how I know.

Funny thing is, I can actually get these items and services on a normal day at half the price with less English from Balogun Market (with greater quality sef, and no VAT inclusive)...

Like seriously, without being told FUNMI-UJU you are in the wrong place.

The other day, I was talking to a friend of mine and he said, "Young lady, I heard you work for someone. How does that appeal to you?"

And I couldn’t reply outta foolishness.

Just yesterday, I was speaking to my very first basketball captain from college, and she told me how sick she felt doing exactly what she was doing which doesn’t involve HOOPS.

And seriously, I connected. I found out we were on the same boat...

Then I visited www.bballjunkies.com

There was a lot going on there, and for a second, I felt BASKETBALLTALGIC (I invented this word myself, so you know).

I felt like entering my system to feel my first love once more.

I’ve spoken more about my first love than I’ve actually spent time with him.

I miss the connection we used to feel the bad times we had, the great times we shared, the memories we created, our red carpet nights, our moments of craze, our embarrassing moments, and most importantly, THE PAPARAZZI AND SWAGS DAY…

These are just a few of the things my job can never offer.

And some of the reasons I regret ever considering taking a break from my love.

Gosh, I want him so badly.

And this is how I felt when I went through that site.

So for a minute, I made up my mind it’s time to pack the papers, clean the footwear, headbands, socks, shirts, and balls, and get back on court.

Enough of me wearing pencil skirts (I hate that clothing so feminine, lol), looking like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde 2, enough of me writing proposals and having presentations before smart-ass n****s who would negotiate the price of anything.

(I mean, if it were possible, these individuals’ ghosts would even negotiate their coffin price after death…

Imagine their ghost saying:

I know I’m smart, but I think it’s high time I drop the books and get back to breaking wrists and ankles.

Making the crowd breathless, speechless, and expressionless.

Yeah, that’s what I know how to do best give you more than you can afford.

The only regret I have about procrastinating this action is that I don’t get to play against Lisa Leslie.

I mean, she retired even before I started.

I guess she heard I was coming and got scared.

(No diss intended I totally love her… in a straight way though…)

I know what you’re thinking: too much bragging.

I can’t play against her professionally unless it’s a game for the legends of world female basketball (if there’s anything like that).

I seriously miss the sweaty days…

Stabbing class for training…

Training under the rain, during the cold days, doing almost impossible drills…

Missing fast breaks and even lay-ups…

Getting punished…

The free hugs from boys (lol)…

Magazine interviews…

The awards…

The fame (come to think of it, I was popular in college)…

The screams of my name, my fan base, the pointing fingers when I walked around…

The "I love you" notes from girls (I’m totally kidding—I never got any of that)… etc.

Weird thing is I never got paid for all this, and yet I went to bed every day feeling rich.

But with my job now, I get paid and still go to bed every day feeling the same way Jabez felt before he rendered the “ENLARGE MY TERRITORY” prayer… if not worse.

Looking at this site, I saw how people who never got and might never get the chance to be in the NBA or WNBA still lived their basketball dreams.

And so it made me decide I don’t have to wait until some pot-bellied, tall, almost bald, sharp-tongued (for men), long-legged, “I-once-upon-a-time-played-b-ball-in-high-school, I-also-wanted-to-use-my-height-for-modelling-too-you-know” (for women) coach or scout or agent finds me before I can play.

I’ve decided to find myself and still play.

I mean, no need to go to try-outs where some dude holding a board would scream from the sidelines:

“Do I look like I came here to watch you fool yourself? I mean, I see enough of that for free on Paris Hilton’s BFF.

Or do you think we’re joking here?

Whoever told you you were a good baller must have his brain under his feet.

Or did you, by any chance, see a sign saying AMATEURS IN HERE when you were coming in?”

No need for this anymore.

Because I would play either directly or indirectly even if it means me creating my own team and playing them on PS2. LOL.

But seriously, it’s high time I get back to the court or somewhere around it…

P.S.

I THINK IT’S WAY OVERDUE.

So I wanna say THANK YOU to everyone who reminded me every time to get back to my game, either for my own good or just for sarcasm. It worked after all...

IBK (your mentor is coming),

SHOMZZ (we going to make it real),

LISA LESLIE (too bad),

WULI (might honour your invite after all),

MY HONEY’S FRIEND (I heard you)...

TO MY FANS (I know I’ve starved you)…

GOD HELP ME.