The polished, privileged white kids in the Northeast, who go home to their mommies and daddies -- doctors, lawyers, the sons and daughters of established businessmen. Bordering the neighborhoods of Ginobili, Duncan, and Bowen -- kids who had the talent and were blessed enough to make it big.
Move a little Southwest. Fiesta colors plaster every ragged building, even if it isn't quite yet fiesta. Burritos, carne asada, tortas -- the best you'll find before crossing the border; that border that repels those with sense and those who lack ties to a perhaps beautiful, loving land. That border that divides a people and brings about hatred.
All over town, you see black and white, black and silver. Colors of a team that have become gods, revered by all despite Black, White, or Brown.
Friday night lights, pick-up trucks, and red cups in the hands of all -- whether you're 18 years old or 80.
This is what it means to say San Antonio.
Move a little Southwest. Fiesta colors plaster every ragged building, even if it isn't quite yet fiesta. Burritos, carne asada, tortas -- the best you'll find before crossing the border; that border that repels those with sense and those who lack ties to a perhaps beautiful, loving land. That border that divides a people and brings about hatred.
All over town, you see black and white, black and silver. Colors of a team that have become gods, revered by all despite Black, White, or Brown.
Friday night lights, pick-up trucks, and red cups in the hands of all -- whether you're 18 years old or 80.
This is what it means to say San Antonio.
No comments:
Post a Comment