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It's March. Which for those who don't follow sports, signals the close of the Men's College Basketball season and the NCAA tournament. Which is still a few weeks away, but regardless...
It being a pretty and gorgeous day outside, I cut out early today and went to shoot around with some folks.
I am old and decrepit. My game is sad.
I'm only 28, and if I were an Athlete, I would be entering my prime. However, the days where I exercised regularly or practised frequently are long gone. Work-out buddy John's been sick, so I haven't exercised all winter. So I'm now fat and out of shape, and my leg-strength and stamina are sorely lacking.
There's still something tremendously invigorating about getting to play, though. Part of it, I'm sure, is the natural endorphin rush. As noted, I'm a highly competetive person by nature, and I enjoy the test of skills. Despite my own lack thereof. I like the feedback - attempting the jumpshot, and knowing almost immediately whether you are succeeding or failing, and then repeating the process to hone technique. I like talking trash. I like battling for rebounds. I like running and jumping, and making plays. Not that I make many.
I hate feeling sore as crap almost immediately afterwords. That didn't use to happen. My knees hurt from jumping. My right elbow is sort from shooting. My back and shoulders are a little tender too. As always, my ankles are starting to swell.
It's not like I ever was a "basketball player". Oh, I was fairly athletic when in good shape, but I've got the broad shoulders and big butt build. It worked for me with football and baseball. But I'm a short jew, I've got a limited vertical leap, I'm not very quick, and I have no D. And then I tore the hell out of my ankle in college.
We used to play twice-a-week. I'm short, not tremendously quick, and I can't go left. But I had a decent jump shot, good range, and one or two post moves. And I was willing and able to bang. When I was nineteen, I coat-tailed into the quarterfinals of the Class-B campus intramurals. I actually hit a game winning three (right of the key, coming left off a pick) in one of our games, which is still one of the more exciting moments for me. Again - there's a definite buzz from a succeeding at physical task like that.
Sadly, these days, I'm just a chucker. I'm so slow that I have to pass or shoot off the first dribble. And the mechanics for my shot are hideous. My ass would get laughed off any reasonable court. Having me on your team will get you crushed. But it's still some fun, and something of a good workout - even if I took a solid whipping.
But my deeply sad J and sorry leap might actually get me motivated to work out, even if John isn't going to be around. I felt so sad-sack dragging my-decrepit-carcass up the stairs afterword and that's just no fun.
It being a pretty and gorgeous day outside, I cut out early today and went to shoot around with some folks.
I am old and decrepit. My game is sad.
I'm only 28, and if I were an Athlete, I would be entering my prime. However, the days where I exercised regularly or practised frequently are long gone. Work-out buddy John's been sick, so I haven't exercised all winter. So I'm now fat and out of shape, and my leg-strength and stamina are sorely lacking.
There's still something tremendously invigorating about getting to play, though. Part of it, I'm sure, is the natural endorphin rush. As noted, I'm a highly competetive person by nature, and I enjoy the test of skills. Despite my own lack thereof. I like the feedback - attempting the jumpshot, and knowing almost immediately whether you are succeeding or failing, and then repeating the process to hone technique. I like talking trash. I like battling for rebounds. I like running and jumping, and making plays. Not that I make many.
I hate feeling sore as crap almost immediately afterwords. That didn't use to happen. My knees hurt from jumping. My right elbow is sort from shooting. My back and shoulders are a little tender too. As always, my ankles are starting to swell.
It's not like I ever was a "basketball player". Oh, I was fairly athletic when in good shape, but I've got the broad shoulders and big butt build. It worked for me with football and baseball. But I'm a short jew, I've got a limited vertical leap, I'm not very quick, and I have no D. And then I tore the hell out of my ankle in college.
We used to play twice-a-week. I'm short, not tremendously quick, and I can't go left. But I had a decent jump shot, good range, and one or two post moves. And I was willing and able to bang. When I was nineteen, I coat-tailed into the quarterfinals of the Class-B campus intramurals. I actually hit a game winning three (right of the key, coming left off a pick) in one of our games, which is still one of the more exciting moments for me. Again - there's a definite buzz from a succeeding at physical task like that.
Sadly, these days, I'm just a chucker. I'm so slow that I have to pass or shoot off the first dribble. And the mechanics for my shot are hideous. My ass would get laughed off any reasonable court. Having me on your team will get you crushed. But it's still some fun, and something of a good workout - even if I took a solid whipping.
But my deeply sad J and sorry leap might actually get me motivated to work out, even if John isn't going to be around. I felt so sad-sack dragging my-decrepit-carcass up the stairs afterword and that's just no fun.