Coming Off the DL

There's an old saying that if you have a reputation for waking up early, you can sleep until noon every day and nobody will say anything.

Apparently, my reputation as a basketball player continues long after my skills have dissipated.

I played quite a bit in high school and college. Even in high school, I played against people who either played college ball or went on to play in major college athletics. And usually held my own. But after college, I hung up the proverbial jock and found other ways to bid my time.

My brother continues to play for fun and in organized leagues. Likewise, my dad played in organized leagues up until his mid 50's.

Over the past ten years, I've thought about why I stopped playing. I've come up with a few factors, each varying in significance.

One, my body hurt too much after a game. And even more the next morning.

Two, my competitiveness consumed me. My boss recently told of a story told to her by a former college football player. "You either won the game", he told her, "or the fight afterward." I laughed at the veracity and the wisdom.

Three, I began to expect too much of myself, and still do.

Last weekend, I caught a game at Chris' basketball tournament. They lost. As I was talking to one of his teammates, he said, "Man, Neil, we could've used you out there today."

See what I mean about reputation?

After the game, Jackson wanted me to shoot with him. Chris asked him why, considering I have no game.

No joking, I have not shot a basketball on a 10-foot rim in at least 5 years. I was more comfortable rebounding for J. After a couple of minutes, I went against my gut feeling and took a 10 foot shot.

Nothing but. Air.

Jackson reported back to his dad - "You're right. Uncle Neil has no game."

Later that evening, we found ourselves at the church gym. Feeling more comfortable there (providential guidance, perhaps), I took a few shots in the paint and reacquainted myself with the backboard and rim.

After about five minutes, I moved out to the 3 point line.

Some things in life, you just never forget how to do. Of all the things in life I've had to work hard at, shooting a basketball was never one of them.

I remembered the pure enjoyment of watching a shot with perfect backspin and arch make its flight toward the rim. I remembered the sweet sound of the net popping as the ball passed a few inches over the rim and through the net.

Soon thereafter, my self-criticism returned.

My form was good (maybe even great after a five year sabbatical) but not perfect. The shots were going in, but I was not overly satisfied.

I felt that if my form was not perfect, I should not disgrace the basketball by putting it in the net.

Yep, grace does come by art and art does not come easy.

This week, Eric invited me to play in his Saturday morning game. Already, I can feel the surging competitiveness.

Luckily, the return to exercise will minimize my first excuse.

Luckily, age and maturity will take care of the second.

Hopefully, the third will always be present.