LANG WHITAKER

It was simple, really. Our photographer, Keith Major, asked Dwight Howard II to dunk the basketball. Keith was crouched on a trash can under a basket in the empty Southwest Atlanta Christian Academy gym, which placed Keith nearly eye-to-eye with the bottom of the net. "OK Dwight," Keith said, "Just run in and dunk it."

"Forward or backward? One hand or two hands?" Dwight asked. You know someone's a good basketball player when they follow a request to dunk with a response like that. "Forward, with two hands. I'm going to snap it just before you dunk it, actually, so kick your legs out, scream, do all that stuff."

Dwight stepped just outside the three-point line and tucked in his maroon SACA game jersey. He took one dribble, two steps and dunked the ball home with only vague force. He dutifully screamed, exposing the braces gilding his teeth. Keith snapped his flick, hopped down and yanked the Polaroid film out of his camera and found a shadow directly across Dwight's face. He moved the trash can a few inches to the left and climbed back on. Then Keith said, "Do it again, Dwight."

So Dwight backed up and ran in again. And then all hell broke loose. He jumped from just outside the lane, about halfway between the free throw line and baseline. Dwight cocked the ball back with two hands, tapping it against the back of his neck. His hands and the ball fired forward in one swift, smooth movement, and with a scream that sounded like he meant it, Dwight dunked.

BOOOOOM!

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