By Tom Friend
ESPN.com and ESPN The Magazine

CHNECKSVILLE, Pa. -- The rim and Darryl Dawkins used to have a relationship. They would meet at night, in crowded gyms across America, and each time, young, crass, muscle-bound Dawkins would beg the rim to go home with him. He'd taunt it, attack it and swing on it, but the rim always had the last laugh -- until the 1979 night in Kansas City when he tore a backboard to a thousand pieces.

The closest witness, Bill Robinzine (God rest his soul), had to have his head checked for glass. Dawkins' 76ers teammate Steve Mix rushed to the locker room, dug out a camera and snapped pictures. Their coach, Billy Cunningham, bitched and moaned about the 90-minute delay. Dawkins, thrilled to see the rim fractured on the floor, did what he does best: He gave his slam a formal name. If You Ain't Groovin' Best Get Movin' -- Chocolate Thunder Flyin' -- Robinzine Cryin' -- Teeth Shakin' -- Glass Breakin' -- Rump Roastin' -- Bun Toastin' -- Glass Still Flyin' -- Wham Bam I Am Jam! It was a night the earth moved, just a little, and the NBA was never the same. The league ushered in breakaway rims later that season, and hanging on to the basket became taboo and/or a technical foul. It was the Dawkins Rule -- he would live in infamy now -- and young Darryl celebrated the moment by crowning himself "The Master of Disaster." But time moves on, ruthlessly, and 30-odd years later, 53-year-old Darryl Dawkins is standing in an obscure Pennsylvania gym, glaring at a basket, thinking the strangest, damnedest thing: I'm not sure I can dunk.