"a Painter On A Planet Of Blind People"

"Idealized form, that's what I'm into," he says. "That's what Olivier is, and Bruce Lee. And that's what I try to be. I can transcend that way. Bowie is an idealized rock musician. Ayn Rand had an idealized philosophy of how life should be. Conan the Barbarian is an idealized tough guy."

All of which leads to Durso's approach to handball.

"It's like the shadow world of Plato," Durso says. "There's somewhere an idea of the sublime volley. I try to reveal that. Ballet is supposed to be visual poetry. The visual beauty is pretty, and I try to be physically graceful. I'm not trying to make the point alone."

Durso looks around the small, cluttered room with its narrow bed, and suddenly seems sad.

"This game is all about I'm better than you. It's not like a painting where you're trying to communicate some principle. It's just I'm better than you. It's a childish, stupid thing. But people do it because they've got nervous energy or misplaced sexual tension. Maybe I have more than anyone else. It's an ego confrontation. I'm very good at that."

Durso is silent. He switches off the TV sound and watches images of himself with that long reach, scoring points. Leaping. Vaulting. Spinning. Then, as if responding to an inner signal, he softly goes down the hall to check on Geraldine.