Streetball Legends

The lights illuminate the Moore Park courts until 11:00 p.m. Choo-choo often closes the place. "Why not -- tomorrow morning will be the same either way," he says. It's true enough.

The game is fast-paced, the teams evenly matched. Layups and jumpers fall for both sides until the score reaches the streetball equivalent of sudden death -- tied at ten, with the next made shot determining the winner.

Jonathan Postal

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The ball arcs like an asteroid after Choo-choo clanks a jumper off the rim. Braids is in the right place at the right time and snags the rebound. He knows enough to pass to his point guard, and it's off to the races.

Choo-choo and his he-man defender separate from the pack, careening toward the basket. Fifteen feet, ten feet, five feet. Suddenly Choo-choo is under the rim and leaping sideways, throwing himself at his defender, his body parallel to the ground. He underhands the ball past outstretched arms and into the air, just as he collides with his opponent and crashes to the ground. Before blood can start seeping from the four-inch scrape on his thigh, the ball rattles around the rim and falls in. Game.

Choo-choo stands up and hugs Braids. "Who's got next?" he yells.