Skirting his man and the
Lane was open so he put
His head down and turned
The corner and as he came
Rearing into the air above
The paint Grant and Jordan
Went up like red sentinels
And his slight form hove
Into their uprising and he
Crammed it into the net
At his far extent and fell
Into their shoulders and it
Was on their faces as they
Fell in the elapsing seconds
How they had been abused.
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