The Game of My Life

I play in a basketball league. I don't play well, but I play. The leaugue is real professional. They keep track of your stats, take your picture, and post "news stories" about the game on their website. We've got everything the NBA's got--photos, uniforms, everything but the inflated salaries and super-sized egos.

I joined the league because I needed the exercise. I don't DO "hamster exercise". Y'know, treadmill, biking and never getting anywhere, and lifting various heavy objects in rapid succession. I play games, sports. I'd like to think I'm learning a skill, improving myself as I get my sweat on.

I play in the rec league, the lowest of the three. The "Top Flight " division is for those twenty somethings who still think they got a shot at the NBA. The "competitive division" is just that and most guys there have played college ball. That's true for some of the guys in the rec league, but at least I can keep up. Sort of.

These are the heights of the people on my team: 5-11, 6-1, 6-4, 5-11, 6-0, 6-1 6-3, 6-2, and 5-9.

I'm 5 foot 6. I'm the shortest, smallest, lightest, oldest, least experienced and most out of shape guy on my team. I keep hoping to meet my long lost twin on some other team, but so far no luck. I keep checking the rosters. All the guys who are listed even close to my height somehow never show up for the games.

In my first game, I scored 0 field goals, 0 three pointers, 0 free throws, 0 rebounds, 0 assists, 0 steals, and 0 block shots. I played for five minutes. And y'know what? I was exhausted. I felt like I had run a marathon.

(Actually, I HAVE run a marathon. When I was 18. That's over a decade ago. But anyway, I know what it feels like. THAT 26 miles at age 18 was easier than running up and down the court for 5 minutes. Talk about hamster-cise!)

That's when I made my goals for the season:
1. Don't get hurt
2. Survive long enough to make it to second season and set a new goal.

Also, I decided that I would try to subtley over time, increase my minutes. With 10 guys on our squad trying to divide up 48 minutes between us, that would prove quite a challenge. Especially since two of our guys score 50 of our 60 points per game between them and play every minute. 48 minutes for 7 guys, 3 at a time. You do the Math.

In my second game, I increased my stats tremendously:
0 three pointers, 0 free throws, 0 rebounds, 0 assists, 0 steals, and 0 block shots.

BUT I played a total of 8 minutes over two halves.

And so the season continued. I put in my 5 - 10 minutes per game and I was happy. I was training for another marathon not 50 yard dash. I knew that if I kept this regimen up that by second season I might just have the stamina to keep up with the rest of the guys. After all, it's kind of hard to score and all 9 guys on both teams and the ball are on the OTHER half of the court.

I kept my chin up. I hustled. I set pics. When I wasn't playing I was practicing. My shot was out of shape too. I could NEVER make a layup to save my life ( even though it's supposedly the easiest shot inthe game) but I used to have a decent outside shot. I kept hustling on the court too. I even got a rebound and the ocassional pass. Finally in our sixth game I hit my first major milestone. I took a charge!


Now no one in any basketball league that I know of seems to keep track of "charges" but in my eyes it's the ultimate selfless act. You hustle towards your man. You get in front of him. You get there first and you stop. You know he's gonna knock you down and yet you do it anyway. Because there's the chance that maybe, just maybe he'll get the foul and YOU'LL get the ball. That's called taking one for the team. It's not glamorous. It doesn't make the highlight films but setting pics and taking charges is albout being a good team player. And that is what the world stands upon.

Incidentally, I had to get mauled about 12 times in that game before I finally got the call.

So I'm driving to our sixth game tonight and I'm talking myself up. I'm visualizing myself running up and down the court, setting pics, scrambling for loose balls, and maybe even taking a shot. I thinkI'm finally ready. That is, of course, if my teammates ever pass me the ball, which they usually don't. Also, I decide that tonight, as I'm sitting on the bench for 40 out of 48 minutes of the game I'm going to choose a new study goal. I'm going to watch how good players handle the ball so maybe one day I'll be ready to dribble it down the court without turning it over ( usually by dribbling it off my foot.)

I get there just 10 minutes before the game. There's not much time to warm up. My fellow bench nuzzler Scott comes running up to me. He usually sits most of the game too. Even though he's almost 6 feet tall he averages about 2 points per game.
"Hurry up, we only got three guys!"He shouts
"What?"
"We only have three guys"
"ok," I say, "then we play 3 on 5. it's what we got."
"we need 4 or we forfeit."
"Fine. But even if we forfeit, we're still playing."

Our fourth guy shows up just before the tip off. Paris. He's one of our two big scorers and our unofficial captain and leader. but still, it's four against five.

What proceeeds is probably the most dazzling game of my life.

The game starts with a bang as the opposing team, the Cavaliers, grab the opening tip off. They race down court for an easy open layup. And miss. They grab the rebound and shoot again. And miss. They miss twice more before we grab the ball and race the other way. We can't make a layup either. And so goes the first entire minute of the game. And the second.
By the third full minute of scoreless activity, I'm pretty impressed. They have an extra man on the court AND fresh guys subbing in every 5 minutes and they STILL can't score on us.

Finallythe silence is broken when they make another easy layup. And I'm actually relieved. We're playing zone defense for the firsttime this season. We're playing zone because even though I've suggested it every game of this season everybody thinks it's a bad idea but NOW we have no choice.

They jump to a 9 to 4 lead pretty quick and then it happens. Paris races down court. He dishes to Scott. Scott dishes back to Paris and it's three on one. Paris bounce passes it to Scott as he draws within layup range. Scott dishes to me uner the basket and
I
make
a textbook pure
soft bounce kiss off the glass
layup!

Swish!

Man, it looked like one of those old classic fast breaks the 80's Lakers used to run. Magic, Byron Scott, Kareem!

I had made my first basket of the season and there was still 30 minutes left in the game. I played the whol first half. Twenty-Two minutes of gasping for air like a waterless guppie, but I did it. I prayed for fouls or any break in the action so I coul djust bend over and BREATHE. I kept looking over at our empty bench, usually filled to the brim with five fresh players.
Help was NOT on it's way. I had to accept that.
About 5 minutes before half, the other Steve, a slightly better bench warmer showed up. Finally, it was five on five. At half time we were only down by nine points! We'd been down by 15 or more at half with our full team and still come back to win it! It was 10 on 4 for 24 minutes and that's the best they could do? In my eyes, that's when we won.

I played every minute of both halves. From 5 to 48 in one week! I got another open layup and missed it but at least I was learning the flow of the game. I set pics. I stole the ball, twice ( and lost it again, but whatever). I dove after loose balls and scrapped on the floor with guys twice my size. I was on the floor quite a bit. I tried to boz out but mostly just got knocked down. But I got up again. And I didn't get hurt. I met my goal.

We ended up losing by 15 but in my eyes we had won. We hustled. We didn't give up, even in the face of certain defeat. Which is the greater accomplishment? Scoring more points than the other team when you've got twice as many players or persavering even when you know you're beat? This isn't the NBA. We don't get paid. There is no golden trophy. And still, who cares? The game of life trumps some silly hoop in a hole, anyday.

I spoke to the sportscaster covering our story after the game.
I said," We better get the cover story."
"Well maybe a small blurb, but the cover? You lost."
"Well I guess that depends on your priorities."

The guys on my team didn't see it my way either. They were proud of our team effort but I still saw it as a loss. I gues we just had different goals.