Basketball: A love-hate relationship

Looking back, I realize that basketball hasn't been very good to me. After nine years of moderately intense pick-up games played inside and out i've been left with a right knee loaded with scar tissue after at least eight (I must admit i've lost count) kneecap dislocations, two shoulders with extreme ligament elasticity(they're just not where they should be), a left ankle that clicks because after spraining it badly a few years ago, I was so addicted to the hardcourt that I didn't give it time to heal properly, countless finger jams, muscle strains, and bruises in bizarre places.

Sure, it's the grocery list of any weekend warrior, but the agony doesn't stop there. My psyche has received its share of injury as well. I'm not getting any taller. Now that may sound shocking, but it's true. And believe me, i've checked. I've long given up on the medical miracle that at the age of 25 would make me a glorious 6ft 8inches. It's just not going to happen and I think I've accepted it, or am almost close to accepting it. But the sob story doesn't end there. At this point i've come to the conclusion that I'm probably as good at basketball as I'm ever going to get. My skill curve has levelled off (and if judging by my performance the other day, may be plunging downwards). I've cajoled every last inch of vertical out of my body(if I grab the rim, it's a good day), my left hand dribble ain't getting any smoother and no matter how hard I try my crossover couldn't fool a senior citizen. And that, when you think about it, is kind of depressing. Lets all share in a moment of silence for the shattered dreams and broken bones suffered by us sports fanatics everywhere....................okay, that helped. Now lets get back to reality.

I love basketball.

Honestly, I would probably trade a kidney(no offense to Sean Elliott) if the roundball genie was to appear and offer me the chance to finish a fast break with a windmill jam. Just once to know the feeling of flight. To look down on my competitors from above the rim. To play for a cheering crowd, to sink the winning basket in overtime as double zeros roll across the game clock. Sounds great, doesn't it? Is it going to happen? No. Do I live vicariously through professional athletes? Absolutely. Is that good? I don't know, but it helps. For that brief second it takes a player to do something I could never do in a million years, I am in heaven. Imagining what if.

Go To Page: 1 2