![]() What good would that do? I would be a hero for a minute. I could interrupt the assault that was taking place in front of me. I would be THAT person until someone new came along. Taking the shot would mean millions of dollars and the lifestyle of the rich and famous. I was faced with a choice: Take the shot or interrupt. My entire body begged for a release from this tension that these last few moments brought. Right and wrong become blurred lines.Ī fly calmly walked over my righthand. Let me tell you, swallow your pride, my friend, because when that moment comes, it's not so clear at all. You assume you'd do the right thing, don't you? We all keep our heads high believing that if ever faced with a life-or-death situation that we'd do the right thing. The rebel looked at him with such a hatred and disgust in his eyes that I knew this boy wouldn't get to rise from the dirt today, not unless there was an intervention. He didn't deserve his young life to be cut short this cruel way. I realized this wasn't a man sobbing in the dirt, but merely a child, sixteen years old at most. Unaware of my presence, the rebel threw the man to the ground. Time seemed to slow down, stop in fact, as I watched the figures in front of me. Decided, I started reading up on how exactly to get into Sudan. I would do what it took to make it happen. Mothers in doctors' offices would tell their children to keep their eyes low and avoid looking at the shelves where the papers were displayed. Men who met each other weekly at the barbers would chat about the images I had brought into their lives. High class people could place the newspaper out of sight while having their high afternoon tea, but they would snatch it up again later once their guests have left and, yes, they would be enticed by the horrific stories these pictures told, my name in bold letters printed proudly below them. I allowed myself to dream of the possibilities it could offer me. People loved the darkness that brewed there. There would be many pictures that could tell frightening tales there. It lured me with stories of conflict and depression. I burned to feel an element of the unknown, danger even. Animals never offered enough value to be displayed as big news. Pictures of wildlife never made it to the frontpages. Nature photography paid the bills, but every photo of a lioness creeping up on unsuspecting deer seemed so much like the one I took the day before. I had to admit I wanted adventure, thrills, and excitement when I left Kenya. The crossroads of my life had brought me here out of my own choosing. I told myself this, but I knew it wasn't the truth. The scene before me felt unreal like a bad dream I would wake from at any moment. My hands were shaking and they felt foreign and clumsy as I clung to my camera. Few people knew this kind of fear, and I envied all who didn't. It was the kind of fear you felt when you knew your life was about to change for the worst. I was overcome with fear, pure unadulterated fear. The air was hot, and felt hostile, poisonous. ![]() I felt my heart pumping loudly in my chest. for Hank's death.My tired eyes were burning as sweat ran down my face. The sympathetic, feel-good tone conveyed in the film is somewhat nullified by the (unportrayed) real life ugliness brought on by Hank's survivors looking for a pay day in suing a litany of people, including the University, Paul Westhead, etc. I give it a "three" out of "ten" only because it is supposed to be a labor of love, but it is not a good quality movie- no where near on the level of "Brian's Song", for instance. ![]() A fat Bo Kimble, 8 foot high basketball rims, and a cheesy looking Coach Paul Westhead are among the sins committed in this cheap jack production which would have Gathers vomiting in his casket if he saw the finished product. While it is honorable to try and remember Hank through film, this effort was embarrassing, to say the least. A real tragedy on many levels occurred when Gathers collapsed and died on the court during a tournament game in March of 1990. ![]() As a big college basketball fan, I, like many others was mesmerized by the on court exploits of Hank Gathers, Bo Kimble and company on the late 80's early 90's Loyola Marymount teams. ![]()
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