Passionality

I have a passion for Four-square. The smell of it, the design, the structure, the rubber. What is there to not love? Nothing is better than roundin' up the boys (and girls if ya got 'em) and just hitting a red, rubber ball into one another's square. Everybody needs a little hard-earned competitive fuel to get them going, and once you step in your cubic, designated square, it's all pure adrenaline and sweat from then on.
This also fortes into my other passion of making cocky, sons-of-guns, get humiliated by me. When I'm in the king square, I always aim for that stuck up fool in the standings and serve it right at his little toe. It usually is followed by a quick stumble, crash and then profanities, littering the surrounding air. Then I do an arm-chug, then sit in silence as he walks back to the end of the rather large line, amidst a spiraling defeat that you can tell is circling him like those birds that circle over your head when you get hit hard in the noggin.