A co-written sample of Mark Torres' application essay for colleges. Mark is, by the way, the single best basketball player with whom I have ever played.

My teammate insists on using Old Spice cologne, drenching it around his pits 10 minutes before every game – usually it creates a hideously yellow circular stain around the side of his arms by 3rd quarter that carries a distinct olfactory-persuasive blend that reminds me strangely of moth-balls in used toilet water.
And I love it. I love every part of the game.
I'm not Lebron James, and though I share the same color, I'll never be Yao Ming. I can't no-look a behind-the-back pass through a defensive square, and I'll never be able to casually put my hands in the air and easily grab the rim. Balling reality, it seems, carries the stench of physical limitation and the pessimism of cynic dreams - and I'll never be 9 foot 6.