- November 1, 2024
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(Still gasping for air) Hold while I catch my breath…I knew I was at a disadvantage when those young, energetic teens came to shoot ball with me Friday, June 10, at Rymfire Park. I haven’t played a game basketball in over a year—three years before that last game.
But, what was I to do? I made enough shots during a game of 21, and I played enough defense to get picked in the full court five-on-five. Something inside told me to make up an excuse and go on home, but I think the evil angel on the left side of my shoulder had assured me I’d be fine.
Several minutes into the game, I thought, “This is going well. I’ve scored a basket, assisted on a play, and my player has yet to even touch the ball. I can get use to this.”
Half an hour later, both teams are hovering around 10-9, going to 15, and I’m thinking, “I definitely won’t be playing in the next game, even if we win. I have to get off this court.”
Just when I thought the game would end, seeing we had scored 15 and only needed another basketball to win by two points, the other team scored. This went on for six more points until the other team eventually won 21-19. By the time we got around 17 points, and my team was down a basket, I was sort of hoping we would miss, so the other team could win the game and relieve me of my exhaustion.
I finished with four points and two assists (I’m a numbers guy—and a weirdo, for taking pickup game stats), four points better than I assumed I would score.
Even after my high school coach declared me as the smartest player he’s ever coached, and, after reaching the Army basketball championship game in South Korea, I can honestly say I never felt more proud of walking off the court than I did Friday night, with both legs painfully cramping.
Just give me a few more weeks of playing with those young bucks, and they’ll regret letting this out-of-shape “old man” play with them. Stay tuned.
