Sure I can run and jump; I can dribble and shoot. Except I am not like Mike. I can not do these things like Mike. I want to be like Mike.
Mike physically imposes you with his formidable physique and a scowl on his face. The intimidating look in his eye boasts arrogance, achievement, and audacity.  As he bounds explosively down the court--taking off like an airplane on a runway--he flies like an eagle and swoops his arms down creating a ferocious, violent, and striking jam. The impact and force of his tough hands on the rim sends shockwaves like an earthquake throughout stands and seats sending people to their feet.
Just like a fruit-fly he will not go away. Always by your ear and then blows by you like a cool breeze outside. He repeats his act with more thunderous slams on the rim. Each a forceful and mighty blow--just like a heavyweight boxer going for a power punch--the hoop might as well have sustained a concussion and needs to be replaced like a wandering linebacker across the turf. The glass has been shattered by his countless solid, athletic, and strong strikes--like a Safety sprinting over the middle to shatter a defenseless receiver.
Except I am not like Mike. I can not do these things like Mike. I want to be like Mike.