So he nailed duel three foot blocks of wood to the bottom of his feet.
It worked great.
He could now almost dunk.
The constant flow of blood covered up the horrible scratches he was leaving on the wood flooring.
And soon he was regularly top scoring for his local community center's mixed over thirty-five social-league team.
Sure he hadn't actually become a better player.
But now for some reason no one wanted to mark him.