As Erik Dampier raised his gigantic arm, he seemed ready to threaten the very heavens, earth, and watery abysses! The wrathful Maverick then delivered his blow with such force and fury, if his hand had not twisted in the course of the descent, the stroke would have put an end to my mortal coil and to all of my adventures.
But fortune has better things in store for me, and as the behemoth's engorged digits struck, all the damage they did was to carry off a large part of my face (together with my left ear), all of which tumbled to the hard woods in a hideous ruin.
Or so it felt! And to add insult to mortal injury, no foul was called! Yet I was assessed a technical for not immediately passing the ball to the referee? (Or was it for being overly Spanish?) Surely, it is a tipsy-turvy world we live in!