I added an extra wiggle to my shoulder shimmy and flexed my biceps as I back peddled back down the court staring down the Hayes defender with a menacing look.
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Gouts of blood flowed from the racist’s skin-shaven head as he dropped the bat to clutch his cranium.
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I wanted every damn rebound. I wanted every freakin’ loose ball. I wanted to squeeze every pebble on the basketball’s leather skin.
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These ingredients are America’s handcrafted recipe, her lasting legacy on the world stage, and her most lethal weapon.
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