Eating a quick dinner tonight between students, I heard on the radio the lamentable story of d-league basketball players who face deprivation (shared living quarters, sparse budget) on their way to (hopefully) becoming NBA players. The article mentioned that the salary cap for NBA players is 21 million dollars per year.
I sat in my car, looking out at the dark trees and the windy, rainy, street. Cars lined up, people making their way home from work. People not facing the limitation of a salary cap of 21 million dollars per year.
Basketball can be an art, especially when it is played as a team, a collaboration. Sometimes you get a Leonardo (Jordan), but mostly the beauty is in the miraculous rhythm of teamwork.
Writers work their art alone. Most struggle to do so in the confines of their paying work and other obligations. I'm happy to say that I am not facing the salary cap. I'm not facing a salary, so far. I'm working, alone, bouncing the basket in an empty auditorium. No one to pass to, but no one guarding the basket, either.
I can dunk it. The crowd will roar. Let the salary caps come as they may.