So, I bought a basketball

Yesterday on an impulse I walked over to the basketball court in the park and fed a shooter who was practicing.  It felt great. So, today encouraged by the activity yesterday and Sports Authority going out of business and selling the store for what they claim to be peanuts, I bought a ball.  I still have the ball I played with in 2006, but it is deflated and, besides, I probably would puncture the thing and my hand if I tried to stick a needle into it.  So, I bought a ball.

This evening instead of speed walking around the park I grabbed the ball on this very hot muggy night and slow dribbled to the courts.  My intention was to shoot for a spell, see if I could jump to make some shots, and try to run dribbling the ball.

I did all that and while I was not shooting that well--coming up short on most of my shots, an indication of not really being able to jump as well as mighty thick rust on my skill sets--I felt pretty good. Especially for a guy who could collect social security, has a pipe instead of a bone in his hip, and hasn't done a whole lot of anything since new year 2014 arrived.

I was about to quit my "workout" when three teenagers came onto the court shooting at the other basket. One looked about 16, the others about 14. They were dribbling through their legs and jawing with each other.  They started playing a game I recalled playing when I was playing.  It's essentially two against one, where the one and the two keep alternating. It's not necessary to explain it here, but it is a decent game if you have only three players.

The ball was under my armpit and I was walking towards the house when I said to myself, "you aren't serious about asking these kids to play 2 on 2."  Then I said aloud, "Do you want to play 2 on 2?"  And we did.

Now, in my prime and not bragging, I could have beaten each of these kids 15-5 in a game of one on one.  But I am not in my prime and haven't run a lick in a long time.  They decided on the sides figuring the old guy was not any good and they put me with the best player of the three of them.  Again, not bragging, but that really meant that the two better players were playing against the weaker ones.  We shellacked them 15-1.  

One problem with this foolish participation was that my instincts took over and occasionally I tried to box out the opponent and jump for rebounds.  Most of the time I just let my teammate shoot and score, but I held my own and hit three decent shots.

A second problem was that my body is not in shape to take a hit.  At one point I got a rebound and an opponent tried to swat it away and in so doing hit my forearm. It was not a ferocious hit or a dirty hit, at all. It was just a basketball play.  His arm came across my forearm as arms have come across forearms of basketball players forever.  Except when his arm hit mine I thought I would see stars.  My forearms are just not strong and my bones must be more fragile. If that kid had hit me harder I would be in a sling. As it is, it is not easy for me to type now and tomorrow my arm will be very sore. In sum, my body is not ready for competition.

Moral of the story is that you can't take the boy out of the senior citizen.  Wisdom should accrue to those who have been around the track several times.  Playing two on two with teenagers who could be my grandchildren was not wise, but it was fun.