Trick Shot

A battered silver-and-red soda can was sitting right in the middle of the empty courtyard blacktop, practically begging to be launched. I didn't need a second invitation. Backing up a few strides to lock in my angle, I sprinted forward and drove the side of my red sneaker clean into the crushed aluminum. The strike sent a sharp, hollow crack echoing off the brick walls as the can went airborne. It skipped across the asphalt, ricocheted off the concrete curb with a bright metallic clink, and rolled right onto the iron storm drain grating. Direct hit on the first try.