The basketball lessons continue. Another game on Saturday. It was oddly hypnotic, somewhat akin to watching the waves at the beach roll in, roll out, roll in, roll out… The small mob of children rushed back and forth on the court, shouting and cheering, breaking into occasional snatches of Irish step-dancing. At times, the basketball would sail up toward the basket like a pineapple being thrown toward the carved stone face of a giant Easter Island deity. In both cases, the object descended back to earth, rejected by hoop and deity alike. Still, like the tribal cultists dancing about in frenzy, the small children in their tent-like uniforms (why don’t they make a size XXXX-Small?) seemed to greatly enjoy themselves, regardless of outcome.
How did I get from basketball to Easter Island pagans?