Robert Wrigley - Announcer

Robert Wrigley once leaped impossibly high (for him, about eleven inches or so), snatched a rebound from the air and fired a blind, two-handed, from-the-belly-straight-past-the-chin-and-over-the-head shot toward his team’s basket at the other end, and the shot swished through—nothing but net—to win the game.  Unfortunately, although the shot was real the game was imaginary, and no one except his dog, Beau, saw it, and in truth Beau wasn’t really looking either.  Wrigley, it turned out, was exceptionally good at imaginary victories.  And he still is, which may explain, in part, his decision to be a poet.  And more importantly, to be an announcer tonight.  He has published eight books of poems and can still, more often than not, beat any of his three children at H-O-R-S-E.