It Was a Great Run

 

I am pretty sure I have played my last game of full court basketball. My long if not illustrious career ended on Saturday. By my calculations I played until I was 62.5 years old, plus one day. I consider my “adult” basketball career to have begun in mid-January of 1970. Somewhere around then I played an intramural game at The Ohio State University, complete with referees and game clock. I was not a student at the time, and neither was anyone else on the team except for one player. We had all gone to high school together, graduating about six months earlier. Of course I had played basketball long before then, I just consider that my first “official” adult game.

Over the many years, I have played in many organized, league games, and in perhaps hundreds of casual games played among friends on outdoor courts, and in one rented gym or another. I have seen a lot of players come and go, more than I can count.

For the last decade or so I have been playing year-round on Saturday morning with a bunch of older guys, though only one is older than me. I would say that the average age is something like 50. In recent years I have wondered what would be the circumstances that would make me quit playing the game. I figured there were three basic possibilities. #1; I would suffer a catastrophic injury or illness. I might blow-out a knee or have a heart attack. #2; I simply would not have a place to play. For example; the guys I am playing with would decide that enough is enough, and quit playing. Or maybe the gym where we play would burn down. #3; someone would brazenly declare that my quality of play is such that I am no longer worthy of participation. Ironically, I had considered the possibility that I might be the person making that declaration.

Anyway, what transpired was #3. In essence I was yelled at by one of my fellow players, and at the time a teammate, to get out of the way and let the better players play the game. This came immediately after a teammate threw me a pass and a fellow teammate, deeming I was not worthy of the ball, tried to intercept the pass. When he failed to steal the pass, this pass intended for me, a fellow teammate, and instead tipped the ball out of bounds, he then turned and angrily barked at me to step aside and quit trying to be a part of the offense. I was shocked by his shouted proclamation and immediate became irate. Fortunately it was near the end of our two hour playing time, so there was no time for anything to escalate.

I am no longer angry and over the last few days I have given the episode, and other factors, some thought and consideration. My conclusion is that it is time for me to hang-up the sneakers. However, I did not have a heart attack, nor did I blow-out a knee. So if I can find a place to play where all the guys are willing to put up with the limitations of an average (although relatively physically fit) 62 year-old athlete, then I might lace them up again. Unfortunately, modestly talented, 62 year-old basketball players are not in great demand.

I am very fortunate, it was a great run.