Dream Shake

Editor's Note: I stumbled upon some older (circa 2006) navel-gazing and thought it deserved its moment. For the classic Dream Shake, see 0:03 & 0:40 of the below video. The one above is a hybrid.

At that young age when the global consciousness first forms, my knowledge of Islam revolved mostly around one center: Hakeem Olajuwon. Olajuwon was the star basketball player for the Houston Rockets whose religious faith was alien to us in Texas. The way his dovish persona translated into a preternatural grace on the hardcourt often appeared spiritual. When he changed his named from Akeem to Hakeem, we figured it had to do with something that made him great. When he averaged 40 quality minutes per game during Ramadan despite fasting and not drinking water, we would have still be in awe even if we had managed to understand the custom. It was often noted that Olajuwon played better during Ramadan.

Hours were spent across Houston imitating his one legendary move where he’d post up against a defender with his back to the basket. With the dextrous footwork from his soccer days and the alchemy of his trained fingers from years of playing handball in Nigeria, Olajuwon, a man seven-feet-tall, had the ability to freeze an opponent in his shoes. With a sudden pivot, he could turn left and shoot, turn right and shoot, fake either way and shoot the other or drive in, the defender reeling, the ball rolling off of Olajuwon’s hand and turning effortlessly through the net. It was called The Dream Shake.

And while kids across the country jumped each other or robbed to land a pair of $150 Air Jordan shoes, The Dream lent his name to an unknown brand (L.A. Gear) which sold his shoes for cheap. Olajuwon managed to be different in a way that meant something good in Texas. And he led us to championships. As an ambassador for Islam, I attributed his good virtues to be Muslim virtues.

When I long for that innocence, I egress in picturing Olajuwon unleashing the Dream Shake upon his rivals, the statuesque David Robinson (frozen to the floorboards) and the venerable Patrick Ewing (cut down like timber).