Marvin Martin

Mrs. Martin was with child and Mr. Martin knew that she would have a boy. He also knew that his son would grow tall and strong. So, three days before the big event, he went out and bought a regulation basketball.

When Marvin Martin was born, he was already tall. He measured twenty-seven inches long. But, still wet, he only weighed a measly nine pounds.

Somewhat light for such a sizable boy, Mr. Martin thought. "He’s a little slender, honey," he said to his wife.

"Sir, he’s almost as tall as his mother," the nurse responded, not giving Mrs. Martin a chance to reply.

"Nurse, he’s going to be a basketball star," Mr. Martin said with pride.

Two days later the new family came home. When Mr. Martin found himself alone, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Look out Dr. J!"

By his third birthday, Marvin was over five feet tall, but could not walk. If he could get up, he would look like a small adult. Either that or he would fold just like a puppet unstrung.

By the time he turned five, he was six feet two inches tall; but still could not walk.

At the age of seven, he finally got up and walked. He was not much of a walker, but he was very good at getting up—he practiced a lot.

Marvin grew taller by the day—maybe by the hour—who knew. Mr. Martin hoped that some day he would gain weight and be strong.

At the age of eight, Marvin measured six feet nine inches tall, but only weighed one hundred and sixty-seven pounds.

Hercules he won't be, Mr. Martin thought. "But look out Dr. J!" he cried out to the wind.

By his tenth birthday, Marvin measured seven feet two inches tall and weighed a hefty one hundred and eighty-five pounds. His father thought that it was about time Marvin started playing ball.

That day, Mr. Martin came out to the basket he put up a decade ago. He was dribbling the still brand new ten-year-old basketball.

"Marvin, let’s shoot some hoops!" he said to his son.

"Come on dad, you know I don’t like to move. I’m afraid to fall. Besides, I don’t like basketball," Marvin replied in a strong voice.

"But Marvin, this is the game of kings and princes. This game will make you great," Mr. Martin argued.

"Dad, I don’t want to be great. I’m unique, and that’s a better deal," Marvin said.

"But, what will you be, when you grow up?" his father asked.

"Dad, I can be a doctor or a lawyer. Or anything that anybody else can be."

Mr. Martin never mentioned basketball to his son again. And Marvin never stopped growing, although, now he grew a lot slower.

Marvin studied hard and became a doctor. He then was married and had a son of his own. He named him Marvin after himself and called him Junior, of course.

One day Dr. Martin and his son were looking at the old basket in his father’s backyard. "My father put that basket up so long ago," Dr. Martin said to his son. "He hoped that I’d play basketball and be a star someday."

Dr. Martin gently rested both hands on Junior’s shoulders, "I have plans for you myself," he said to his son. "You’ll be a fine doctor."

"But dad, Grampa says I can be a star," Junior replied.

Just then, Mr. Martin came out. He was dribbling the still brand new forty-year-old basketball.

"Junior, let’s shoot some hoops!" he said to his grandson.