Feeling good about my couple of trials, shooting hoops to slowly get back in shape, I had the urge to head over to the club and shoot around a bit on Thursday night around 7:00.
I got back at 10:30. Here's why.
I did a quick walk-around when I arrived to see what baskets were open. You see, last Friday when I arrived there were no basketballs available for check-out. There are something like 16 basketballs in stock, so I wasn't too surprised to see a zoo of children swarming over every court (most of whom, I concluded, were using the club as a babysitting service while mom & dad worked out in the weight room or had a candlelight dinner). So I was pleased on this night to see several open baskets. But since the lower court had a full court game running, I figured I'd go to one of those side baskets and see if they'd need an extra player before long.
By 8:00, I'd concluded that they didn't need me.
In fact things had degenerated such that, while there was no more game going on, there were enough people scattered at various baskets and sitting on the floor such that any shots that I missed went scurrying into a crowd of people. I was about in the middle of a drill where I make 50 shots and then go home, but I figured I'd head to the upper courts with the emptier baskets in order to finish things off.
Only, the court wasn't empty. What I found was a group of guys about my age playing a full court game (I'm at the age where "about my age" is an extra-exciting feature).
Around 9:30, having played more basketball on this one night than I'd played in the last eight months combined, I decided to rev the motor up a notch and see what my body could handle.
Answer: Not much.
About three steps after shifting to Iverson mode, both of my calves cramped up to the point that I was finished jumping for the night. Of course, I didn't tell my teammates that I'd become incapable of shooting jump shots. Instead, they saw me passing up open shots to dish the ball to my teammates. They saw a player using proper box-out technique to grab rebounds. They saw me hold my ground no matter how many dribble-drives and ball fakes the man I guarded used.
In short, the result of my disobeying the Red Cross's orders to avoid physical exertion following a blood drive was that I was deemed the ultimate team player. They mobbed me with well-wishes! They told me that they run games every Tuesday and Thursday night for two hours. And they'd love for me to start joining them. Now I can play three days a week and accelerate my health ahead of the summer sports seasons.
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