By: Allen St. John
The New York Times

When Balzac got writer’s block, he took off all his clothes and hung a wreath of garlic around his neck. When I get writer’s block, I play basketball. When the paragraphs aren’t flowing, and I find that I’m spending more time checking the word count than adding to it, I lace up my Chuck Taylors, grab my well worn Wilson from the bathroom closet and make a beeline to the hoop attached to my garage.

And then I take a side trip to the Madison Square Garden of my mind, complete with a Marv Albert play-by-play. “Knicks down by two, the clock’s running down. Sprewell at the top of the key, double-teamed, he passes to St. John,” me, “who fakes left, moves right and shoots. It’s, it’s an airball.”

Continue reading How A Driveway Dreamer Was Turned Into a Slam-Dunker →