That's a confusing title? Maybe writing some more will make sense of this ensuing madness...

One of the joys of becoming a new homeowner in 2000 was our swimming pool. It was 20 years young when it collapsed last spring. Now there is a gaping hole in our backyard and a giant, two-tier deck overlooking the eyesore below.

Our fence is now buckling over where I dug out the pool supports before scrapping ol' Betsy for a fistful of green backs at a local recycling center. The weeds are growing in with a vengeance. It's bad enough we had to fish from the water the needles, leaves and seeds from the giant box elder and evergreens that surround, now they are in the mix.

We bought a replacement pool you can take down each season, rather replacing our above ground pool, There would be no more winterizing an 18x30 bath of decaying fall waste that turned black, green and slimy by spring.

Now the deck is the thing. It is too big for the new pool, which is round as the old pool was wide. So, it doesn't reach if we center the pool where the electrical set-up for the pump is housed. You can't just dig up and pick up a 20-foot wide, two-tier deck and move it. My wife wants to tear it down. I have been racking my brain trying to find a solution to save ol' Betsy's life long mate.

I came up with an idea that IS CRAZY and just might work.

What we sometimes lack when the winter season rolls around is good storage. I've wanted to own a riding mower and a snow blower, neither of which will fit in our newly built shed in the side yard that has a standard 32" door on the front and no ramp, much less the capacity within for my manly lawncare desires.

So, what about making storage under the old deck?

That doesn't make it practical to have a deck 10 feet away from the new pool. But, Aha! I propose trimming away the rounded section where the old pool would nestle and build out new planks that narrow to the middle of the side of that new pool. The kids could have a runway to the pool. Only, NO DIVING.

And underneath this colossal, ever-expanding deck, we build a floor and enclose an area with a latched gate for easy entrance to storage space that could contain my lawncare mega machines. It would also keep safe and dry any pool supplies that wind up in our garage.

This crazy idea will require a flexible and creative deck builder. And not someone who will say, 'It would be easier just to tear it down and build a new one. NO! We must save ol' Besty's life partner.

I know the wood has mold/algae in it and some of the deck saturated by years of decaying, acidic pine needle waste is rotting, but it's good enough to spare. Tearing it up would make the entrance I paid landscapers to pave up to the deck look silly and pointless. Would I have to tear that up, too?

I just know I have a lot of work ahead. I need to find someone to fill that hole and level it off for the new pool that needs a firm, flat surface. The old pool sagged into the ground, rounding to a center point that was about two feet below the outer surface.

Someone will have to take apart my fence to get through. Do I repair that or tear it down also? Because paying someone to do all that for an 18-foot take down pool seems a bit of a stretch. I want to keep it simple, keep our options open. What if we don't want a pool anymore? Do I tear everything down and have a wide open backyard? We could keep a simple fire pit and grow a vegetable garden 10 times the size of what I'm used to working with. And how much work is that going to be and will I have to deal with more bunnies and other pests like the deer in the local park that come eat my hastas and other flowers outside the fence?

Choices.

We should have never purchased the take down pool, because we never put it up last year. With kids who love swimming so much, it seemed logical to replace. But we found out how much work went into the preparation of the ground before putting it in and then idly watched the days spin past until it was fall.

I could borrow a trailer and load it with soil from the local recycling center. I don't want to shovel all of that into a trailer that will have to be filled three-five times, only to shovel it all out again. I can buy soil from a landscaping business. They'll just use a frontloader and dump a bunch in the trailer, but I still have to shovel it out.

I could contact a bunch of landscaping companies and get bids. But on what? Do I pick their brains and call them back when I formulate a plan, if any? How much research do I have to do to fill a hole in my backyard to put up a pool, fix a fence, retro fit an aging deck to extend to said pool and turn the underneath into storage, while keeping my plans open for some additional space for planting a garden?

Yeah, I couldn't sleep and thought I would write this all out to see if I could get it out of my head long enough to stop all the tossing and turning. Don't know if this is going to work.

I'll try anyway...to sleep.


 

My hamstring injury was worse than I thought. I was feeling the back of my thigh and it felt like someone had filled my leg with lumpy cement. I told my wife that it had been over a week since I tweaked it before she noticed the black and blue cloud that encompassed an area that spread into my upper calf.

I had been playing on it for over a week, as of last Friday, using Alleve to control the swelling and pain before I played. In fact, I took and additional tablet the last two times I played. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew I was injured. I couldn't properly stretch, though I kept trying with no avail. In fact, that likely worsened the injury.

Now I have to rest. I think the injury comes at a time when I should wait until I have proper head gear before walking out onto that court to mix it up with the various elbows, hands and occaisional head-to-head combat. Need to protect the precious peepers.

I also need to do some physical conditioning to avoid future injuries that come from being unprepared to play a young man's brand of basketball. I had been working out with a personal trainer, almost a year ago now. I got out of the habit of training, party because I felt good enough to compete.

I also need the time to cool off, because I don't like where I went verbally the last time I played. I yelled at another player after a frustrating game where he kept harping on me. I was tired of the negativity and pointed out the need for more positivity. I may have ended up contradicting myself with my approach.

I just need to assess my situation and make another run at this thing when I'm better. I view this three-plus-year comeback to the game like taking two steps forward and one step back until I've danced my way back into the light of the old days.

I think about dunking the ball again. If I can drop the weight (again) and stay on a strict diet and regime of exercise, I might be able to pull it off. I just have to remember to prepare longer before I start play. No more waiting until the last minute to walk out of the house. Either prep for 30 minutes at home or get to the gym that much earlier so I can be ready.

I see so many older guys take their time before they play. They're in the weight room or taking their time with warm ups in the gym. They pass on early games or don't give as much effort until they are properly warmed up. Me, I'm itching to go. I don't want to miss a second. It doesn't matter if I just dropped my bag on the floor; I dig out those goggles and fumble with patella strap and bandana and race out onto the floor to calls of 'come on, let's go.'

Patience. Act my age and treat my body the way it should have been treated all my life. Let it repair and don't despair if I miss a day or a game or two. I know I'm getting older and running out of time with this limited vision. I just have to put the focus on quality of play versus quantity of time spent weaving about the gym with a bunch of discriminate young people who will only share the ball with players they trust to make the right decisions.



 

This will remain an unedited post for now...

I had some real highs and lows today. I peaked with a walk off three-pointer that some say I shot from 25-feet out. It was a good moment, as I high-fived everyone on my team. We played well as a unit. Then, I had the misfortune of being paired with some guys who like to show their frustration. I confronted one of them and I did not feel good about it afterwards. (for what would turn out to be days afterwards)

My goggles broke again and I feel this should be the last time I play until I have a new and functional eyewear to help me compete without further risk to my eyes. I did, however, keep playing with my regular glasses after a brush from another opponent attempting to steal the ball flung my specs to the floor.

Friday is not a good day for me when there is so many young players, most home from college I suspect. They play high speed and are discriminating of who they share the ball with. Because I had my awkward moments with teams I did not mesh with, I felt a bit left out and eventually uninterested in the game and didn't give my best effort. Even harder to do when I am using glasses I read with.

I am ending a lot of sentences on prepostions.

The walk off three was sweet because the guy guarding me had no idea I had that range. Everyone on my team knew we needed a three and I could see their eyes on me in wonderment if I would get open. That's a good feeling that inspired me. When I got the pass from orignial Dave (too many Daves but he's the first I met at the Y, so I will refer to him as Original Dave), I went up without hesitation fully knowing I would end the game and stroked a beautiful, long shot.

We couldn't team up again with so many people arriving and I got stuck with a mopey kid who bellowed when I turned the ball over trying to hit someone upcourt after I had committed myself to passing the ball and my first option got covered up. I threw the ball into the opponents hands all day and surmised at the end it was because of the goggles and the fogging that was forcing me to miss shots wildly, as I lost more and more confidence with each play and each earful that I got.

I finally came unpinned and walked up to that kid in the hallway after that game, full of venom, and let him have it. He actually backed down and told me he was frustrated. I had started with, 'You know, you can be a dick sometimes!" I think I surprised him. Afterwards, I felt like apologizing for my outburst, though I think he understood. I did make my speech about taking a positive approach and supporting people out on the court. But, I contraDICKted myself by yelling at him after the game.

I do know how to support players out on the court, either persuading them not to get down on themselves or using positive reinforcement when they do something right. I just don't know how to deal with negative people, directing their comments toward me and others.

Young Mike got stuck on my team after that and we had some issues. Then, he wasn't on my team and trying to take advantage of me offensively and made a few good plays that I couldn't prevent. I forced him into more errors than he'd be willing to acknowledge. He isn't as confident with the ball as he should be and I take away the options he likes most and force him to make plays. When he does, he feels good about himself. It shows in his body language. But when he gets down, boy do his shoulders droop. His energy level just drops off.

It's just basketball everybody. So what if you don't win or have some bad plays? I kept trying even when I failed and had people on my back. Can't say that it didn't get me down and that I didn't give as much as I should. But I laugh and have fun instead of throwing a fit. Okay, I might still be contraDICKting myself. But it's just the negative people who get me down.

I really felt like God reminded me today not to get too cocky, though I was only making a joke after that walk off three. Someone asked what team won the last game so they would know if shirts or skins got the ball first in the following game. After someone called out 'shirts' I said to an older guy (Phil), who's very conversive, that I won the game. We chuckled. I knew I really hadn't. I didn't do much in that game, but did make a grand exit.

After that, I got stuck on some sucky teams. I was denied the ball mostly and had trouble making plays when I did get my touches. There were a lot of energetic and long players double teaming every possession and I managed as well as I thought I could. I just wasn't up to the level of competition on this day.

God reminded me that I need my teammates for those opportunities to shine. I don't hit a walk off three if they don't hit me with the pass and throwing all their trust in me with the ball and their vigilant, trusting eyes.

I fear I will have to take a break for awhile. My kids have less than two months before summer break. I won't like to hauling them down to the Y this summer, unless I really get the itch to play. I'll need more divine intervention before I can step out on that court and participate again. I could use some time off to recondition this body that needs more rest. Will I? I haven't done much likely and see no plans for the future.

My right leg wants to cramp up again. My left elbow has been good of late -- about 90% good with little discomfort when I grip the ball or bang my arm. I really need to drop the weight and tighten up my mid section, actually work out.

Committment. I lack that. If I really desire to impress these people and do things with the ball like I used to, I'm need to get in even better shape. I want to lose enough weight to help me bound higher, shake off defenders and drive to the hole. It would be nice to shock and awe them like I once did. I might be asking too much of myself.

Part of the problem has been my diet, but that's a story for another day.

Sorry for the tired language. Wanted to write this out. They all can't be gems.
 

Under Construction (working title)

I seek out your chesnut hair
redder than before
stained with strands of gold
see the familiar hazel eyes
hiding behind a browner pigment
and hear you say
you'd like a tummy tuck
and have your boobs 'done'

Once I get away
I view the cloudy reflection
above the under-lighted vanity
hunching over, wondering
if my own eyes deceive

Silver blades weed
a dying field once Autumn
now brittle and starving
straying from bloodshot eyes
thankful I can still see
while I cannot change
the course of things to come.


What I want to go for is cosmetic surgery can change appearances and how we perceive one another, but also, accepting what cannot be changed and what can be accepted as a natural progression of aging.

In other words, we're supposed to be comfortable in our skin and accept that we cannot turn back the clock. We cannot be ruled by vanity -- the insecurity of knowing we are going to die might drive us to be more appealing, so we cannot sense our own mortality. Just one theory, or part of this insanity. Obviously, we want to be attractive to others.

I want to be direct with this poem and say at the end that I'm preparing to die, knowing I cannot stop the aging process. Nor, can I stop my loved one(s) from changing my image of her and how I want to see her grow old with me.

I also wonder about past loves and where they are now and what they are doing. Ultimately, I'm reminded they will not likely be as attractive as they were before and that seems to ironically end the nostalgic fits that occupy this hapless head.

I muddled through this poem thinking about how I can best describe how I see people affected by thoughts of cosmetic surgery and the little things we do to look younger. I have a more difficult time expressing how I trouble with looking older when I look in the mirror (sometimes I'm trying to change my facial expressions until I can see the boy I used to know). Pathetic.

It's like we lose ourselves as we age and forget who we are and where we came from. I want to stay grounded and connected to who I am and have it be the same for the loved ones around me. I can't stop my children from growing up either. It takes time to accept this aging/changing process. Sometimes, it seems like it is going faster than it should.

I want the mirror to lie until I can get a grip and just accept this process. I want to go back and be in love again the way it used to be -- excited and full of anticipation meeting someone new and not knowing what love had in store. I want that kind of youth to blossom inside of my barren soul, I desire a reawakening that Viagara cannot give. (Just for the record, I do not require it...yet I am looking into testosterone supplements, if my doctor says it's okay, to help me with the energy I desire for sports...that's all!)

I suppose basketball is a part of my younger day, my glory days. Trying to recapture something I lost, gave away, gave up on seems to be some act of seeking fulfillment, maybe unrealistically wanting redemption.

I have wondered what life would have brought me if I had sought out the loves that should have endured instead of travelling down this path that brought me to a happy place, but with a lot of baggage (that I bring from life's travels). I can't have a perfect life, but I wonder if I had some do-overs whether I could correct the mistakes and perhaps positively affect lives that I altered with my selfishness of yore.

If I was man enough, I would have corrected the mistakes of my past sooner. Only now am I wondering if looking up those people I let down would help them or me move forward in life, if I could muster up the courage to salve 25-year-old wounds that likely only fester now in my soul.

The mirror is truth. Every day, I try to get it to lie. I too wish for a magic potion that could heal what troubles inside of me. Let me find acceptance above all else and help me know that the past and where it brings me to the present cannot be changed.

 

There are two guys who I sometimes have to guard when match-ups put me in a precarious situation that don't take advantage of my lesser skills the way they could to help their team's outcome.

Both are taller and more gifted offensively, Dave and Oscar, and often pass out of the post when I guard them. They might do this because they want to facilitate other players and just make a more rounded game, knowing they could go over top of me and score play after play. Or, they are both worried I might be too physical and could hurt either one of them unnecessarily, because I have to try harder to deny them in the post.

Either way, I would rather they try harder. I wasn't as good of a player about three years ago when these match-ups first presented themselves. I know Oscar shies away from contact. I'm told he's a former D1 (division one college) basketball player and he just wants to get in a few pick-up games on the afternoons he appears to stay sharp. Dave on the other hand has been unlucky around me as an older player with weakening knees. We've had collisions that were purely accidental but maybe he feels that my awkward attempts to keep up with him put his body in danger. I've seen him have me switch teams so he didn't have to be guarded by me, as recently as this week. I don't blame either of them. I am a force to be reckoned with!

If it is intimidating in that respect to be on the same court with me, then I have to use that to my advantage to guard them. It's not easy to block Oscar's shot, but I've deflected two of his shots in recent months. I stuffed up Dave a few times in the game I guarded him. There was more contact than I would have liked, but I suffered the worst. Perhaps, because I was trying to deny him space and got my head and knees banged up a bit.

When the tables are turned, and a smaller player guards me, I must accept the same mentality.

Jimmy is a 'retired' Baptist minister who is around five and a half feet tall, older than me, but scrappy. You can tell he has some skills that carry over from his younger day, and I suspect, despite his yielding nature as a man of God, has a bit of a chip on his shoulder if he thinks anyone dismisses him on the court. I did that a bit this past week and gave him opportunities to haul in 50-50 balls (loose balls) and take uncontested shots that he knocked down.

I took Jimmy in the post only when I felt my team needed another option on offense and when the opportunity was presenting itself. I could feel him in my back and sensed some urgency on his part once he realized I was serious in my endeavor. And like he's done in the past, and I was reminded of this, when I received the ball he made sure I didn't finish the play, smacking me over the hand and wrist on the first play where I had to call foul.

I wondered if he thought it was a clean strip. I didn't fully bring the ball over my head to shoot and the ball was ripe for the picking when I swung around. And why I didn't start with the ball above my head before I pivoted to face the hoop, I do not know. I saw other players sprint up the court as if they did not see a foul. Of course, I had to call it. And you have to call it loud, lest they don't hear you and get miffed that you make them come back after getting so far ahead after the ball was turned over.

I had to call a foul a second time on another post play and almost didn't because I was disappointed in my lackadaisical nature that allowed him to get hands on the ball and me to kill another post play. But, it was acknowledged by more than one player that time and we reset our offense.

I talked to another Dave after the game and we talked about it and he helped me realize that I have to take Jimmy more seriously. And I remembered how smaller players have an advantage because they are more leveraged in your wheelhouse with the opportunity to put their upper body into your midsection and hips, making it hard to move. I had a probably with a shorter guy named Dan who kept denying me post moves and passes until I got down lower than him in a ridiculously low crouch that gave me space to catch the ball and put my big butt on him to move him out of the way.

I can't get lower than Jimmy. But, I can keep the ball over his head.

I just have to remember to stay competitive and not lower my guard because I think I have an advantage over someone, because they already know they have to cheat and give their best efforts to stop a bigger player from making them look ridiculous. And really, it's me who looks silly if I let a smaller player outsmart me when I have an advantage.

I have to see Jimmy like he's Oscar or Big Dave and make him work hard for everything he gets. If there is one thing I do know, when the guy that has that edge over you is allowed to dominate, it becomes a major psychological uphill battle to stop them. You have to get in their head first. So, as the big guy, I have to dominate and take advantage of my match-up early to get in Jimmy's head. Once defeated, it's harder for them to keep giving the same effort and have the same outcome in my favor.

With every player and every situation on the court, I am trying to make my opponent make a mistake so I can get in their head. If I think they think I'm going to do something, I show it and then pull it off the table once I see they've reacted to it. Like a player driving to the hoop looking to score while keep their options open to pass if I sag on them. I fake the sag to get them to think pass and then take away their avenues to the hoop and to the open player once I've calculated where on the floor they have to make their decision to do either. It works quite frequently. It might also work because I probably look like a crazy man in bandanna, goggles and patella straps slamming my size 15 shoots in the floor and they just don't want to get hurt.

Whatever works. I want to have the psychological edge.


 

...or on a low note. You never know when to call it quits. If you have a hot hand, you want to keep playing it until it runs out. But, how to know when to stop? Is there a low note where you just pack it in and call it a night? Or, do you feel unsatisfied after such a hot run to now be mired in something like failure. Maybe, one quits while one is ahead? But, if you do, what do you miss out on when you walk away from that party?

When I was young and liked to use our neighbor's basketball court as my own, they would come out and join me for a little shoot around. One of them mentioned they never liked to leave the court until he had made a shot. Seemed to make sense. You want to finish with something satisfying.

Maybe, it's like that last morsel you take away from a meal. Maybe, that's why people enjoy a good dessert at the end. I know when I eat grapes, I make sure the last one is not sour. I like to savor one last sweet grape, because it is the best reminder of how good it was to consume their sweetness.

I now take that last shot before leaving the court to some extremes.

I am nearly always the last one to leave the gym. I am still shooting after play is over. I am still trying to find that sweet spot when I let the ball part from my hands with the desire each time to perfectly part the twines. I might find a shot to be errant if it catches some of the rim before passing through the goal.

This habit went from just making a shot before I left the court to making sure it was a swish. Eventually, I was not happy with the last shot being a make, but the last several. If I caught rim on the last, I'd have to do it over. If I missed several trying to get a swish, I would wait until I had a good number of shots through the hoop before one final perfect landing. I can't settle for anything I make inside the three-point line.

What started out as an exercise in psychological manipulation crossed over the line into an obsession. I got into the percentages, counting off every 25 three-point shots to know how many I was making. I might start keeping track when I realized I had made four or five in a row. It would climb to seven or eight before a miss.

Then, my early success shooting would get in my head. I'd think about where I should take my shots on the court. I would think about my mechanics, or try not to think about them. If I missed, I would try to understand what was wrong with my form, causing that ball not to make it's intended target. The whole time I am trying to find a rhythm to this shooting process, find my groove.

When I was done, I would find I made shots in stretches. I feel I am hot and cold because I do not trust myself to shoot without thinking about it. When I get mad at myself for missing, I begin to shoot like everything must be made like a last minute game winner. Those usually go in. It makes me feel I have a clutch gene, because I am competitive and always remember wanting to make the last shot, even in my driveway as a kid. I still want the ball when it's for the winning shot, though I won't call for it (more psychology involved there), as I have been recognized now as the shooter to get the ball to when we need a close out.

With tracking my shooting...if I make more than 50% of my 25 attempts, I should feel satisfied. But, if I started out hot, I don't like to end with just 13 or 14 makes. I should have done better. On Friday, I was shooting after the games were over and knocked down 18 of 25. They were having a three-point shooting competition at the other end (which I was not asked to participate in) and they were making 12, 12 and ??...I didn't hear the other score. I would have beaten them.

Or would I?

When you are in a different sort of environment and have people accounting for your feats, does it get in your head? Would I have shot as well, like if I started off making four or five in a row and someone gave their impression, I might go into 'aw shucks' mode and miss a few because someone noticed. It's like I only want to get noticed so much and then I try to fly under the radar a bit. Fear of expectations?

Going unconscious is the thing. You want to be in the moment and you need the proper motivation to shoot. You shouldn't be thinking about picking up groceries or the kids after school. At least I want to be enjoying what I am doing and eager to make each basket because each one is so important.

The reward is how you make that shot. A perfect swish is good, but getting shots to go in that looked errant can encourage, too. Unless you feel frustrated that shots going in didn't feel right when you released them. Then you wonder if you need to keep shooting ugly or change your form so that you are putting the ball in the air that makes you the most comfortable.

I have changed my shooting style, the release of the ball many times over. Sometimes, the ball rolls off the right side of my hand as I release, because I didn't cup it well or center it well enough so that my middle and index fingers control it's departure. My pinky is small and not as good at getting the ball in the air straight towards its goal. If the ball rolls, I make last minute adjustments like the angle of my arm will become greater than 45 degrees, or I lean my body to the left to account for a ball that may be headed right of the rim.

I think a lot of shooters make adjustments for various reasons to include the defense or whether a ball slips from their grip from, for example, sweaty hands. I feel like I mastered some of the necessary adjustments from all the times I've hoisted and shot basketballs. It helps to work with the same or similar basketball and court over and over to produce the best results.

Leaping when I shoot also has an affect that can deter a good shot. I have to know when to use it and how much to loosen my arms when freeing the ball from my hands. When I started jumpshooting again, I did it because I was encouraged that the shots weren't coming up short. The power it takes to lift in the air takes away from the support you need underneath you to get the ball off on it's flight. Being anchored to the floor for set shots makes it easier to catapult the ball toward the goal.

Jumpshooting requires rhythm and timing and knowing at what point to release the ball. I also realized I shoot jumpshots better with the ball coming out from over top my head. My set shots were coming out with the ball positioned somewhere above my right ear before I released it over my head.

All of this thinking about shooting eventually becomes overwhelming and a person goes back to instinctively shooting the ball until the results are bad again. Then I assess...is it because I am undisciplined, tired or apathetic? And what parts of my body need to be fine tuned to get the mechanics back to where they belong?

I also find that if I have been watching games on tv, I will start imitating shooting styles or motions. It's never conscious. In fact, I sometimes realize that what I just did was similar to a particular basketball player that I've been watching. I think it's how many of us learn, especially growing up as a developing player. But, you would think for me, someone who just turned 51, I would have mastered an undeterring style. I'm still maleable.

It makes me feel like I am still a kid learning this game. I keep my mind open and I try new things. Sometimes with good results, especially since I've tried so many things now that I know what should work and what shouldn't.

 

I realize I take a big risk just by participating in pick-up games at the Y. My eyes are vulnerable even with goggles...rec specs. And I have broken two pair now from all the collisions with my head. Most are caused by me, the last by a swipe at the ball by another player that landed on my head. It broke my recently glued pair for the last time. Yet, I held on to those frames instead of tossing them in the can.

My oldest pair are ready to go, super glued after a crack to the frame that ended their service over a year ago. I could wear them again today, or wait under I find a new pair (not a chance).

I prepared to order a new pair, but needed a prescription to complete the transaction and my eye doc offices closed at five. I could walk in and get the prescription tomorrow to hand deliver, but I also just started wondering if I need the corrective lens after all.

I decided I do, because I am trying to get every kind of edge possible to help my play. It's bad enough that I have so many blind spots to go with the tunnel vision. Going back to the old frames, which weren't clear like the new ones that broke (or the pair that I'm ordering), makes me realize how a little hinderance greatly affects one with limited vision. When the blue goggles started fogging up last week, I was blinder than ever and had to rely on my instincts even more.

The new frames will have coating to reduce glare from lights and the glass backboard that reflects light. When I'm under the basket and so near to my target, it is really difficult to see the goal and the ball. It's like flash photography that holds or distorts imagines, like a camera being adjusted to focus on an image. I'm dealing with split second images and decisions. I want to get back anything I have lost to glaucoma to help me see and then be more confident on the court.

It took me forever to get used to receiving passes. The shorter the distant traveled, the more difficult to pick up the ball on my radar...because I don't know sometimes if it's a bounce pass or coming on a straight line. And then there's the speed.

The more time it takes the ball to arrive, the better my chances are of adjusting. I looked foolish for awhile. People started to wonder about my play because I looked so uncomfortable trying to haul in a throw or even go after a rebound or loose ball. They yelled at me for spending so much time on the perimeter, my comfort zone, instead of rolling with the picks I set or generally making cuts, even with picks set for me.

I learned to put myself in the best situations to catch a ball. I eventually got more confident with pick-and-roll plays and knowing how to space myself and finding a pass as I flashed to the hoop. But, I was only as good as my last play. So, if I got on a roll and the juices were flowing, it was going to be a good day. If I screwed up early, I would have to work extra hard to earn the trust of my teammates.

It helped that I adjusted my game to that of a perimeter shooter. But, I need to challenge myself more. I need to put my back to the basket and react to the direction of the ball when I don't see it. I have to do that on defense, because the person I'm guarding dictates where I get to position myself when the ball is working its way around.

I now enjoy passing up a three-point try and making people pay for guarding me too closely outside. Driving inside presents a lot of options, but again, I have to have the right eyewear to help my vision so I can make quicker, better decisions that will allow others to entrust me with the ball more. More touches equals more greatness.

I can distribute the basketball very well and remember it was the part of the game I first fell in love with when I was 15 and impressed my coaches with the three-on-two fast break drills. I think it was my ability to show what I could do handling the ball that got me on the sophomore squad.

It was the last year I participated in high school athletics. A story for another day.

It feels like I am getting back the edge that I lost when I use sports equipment like goggles, patella straps, ankle braces, sports drinks, energy drinks, over the counter pharmaceuticals, and more. Anything that will inspire confidence, even though with a bandanna wrapped around my head, I look like that annoying dweeb who thinks he can play basketball. I have to work a lot harder now to show them I can. I wish I could play sans all and just be out there with a good pair of high tops, baggy shorts and a grin on my face.

Goggles will be ready in two weeks! yeesh.
 

I forced myself to play all four days in a row this week while the children were away. I almost didn't play Friday because I only got three and a half hours sleep before I shot up in my bed and decided I needed to go downstairs and spend some time on my computer. I had hoped I would feel sleepy again., but I never did.

I think I consume so much caffeine and other stimulants during the week that it catches up with me in the end. I slept like a soggy log last night. I woke in the middle of the night to find the sheets soaked with my sweat. I turned off the heated blanket and took off my pajama bottoms and slept the rest of the night with one leg over the covers. After eight hours, I still didn't want to get up, but forced myself.

I took a hot bath and worked on a New York Times crossword puzzle while I was in the tub. The lighting was good, but without bifocals the words still blurred at times and it was a struggle.

My body aches, especially the right hamstring that nearly popped the last two days. I took a hot tub before Friday's games, a short 10-15 minutes to loosen up and invigorate. It worked, but I couldn't stop sweating when I hit the gym and the floor. My goggles fogged so fast, I had to keep lifting them up or blow on them when there wasn't enough action to let me run about so I could keep them dry.

My wife super glued an older pair of rec specs that had also busted in the same right temple corner. I decided to give up on the recent pair, because they were tight and scraped my eye the last time they flew off my face. The older pair was harder to see with, because the frames were not clear, but blue. Add the vaporized lens and I was really blind.

Yet, I managed. Hobbled with a tight leg that worsened by the last game, I still made great defensive plays. I did shoot one air ball, but Jeremy gave me a second try right after and I drained it. I had a few key three-point shots and did some good work inside. Young Mike tried to take me in the post again. I swiped away the entry pass, it got kicked back to him in the scrum in the lane that followed, and he went up and faded baseline aiming for the glass. I got a piece of it and the ball and he quickly claimed foul. Marginal, but acceptable call. The game ended on the next play when someone got hurt, so I didn't get to further frustrate him.

I won't ever allow him to get confident while we're playing each other. He is too easy to figure out and manipulate to give him opportunities to think he's better than me. It motivates me to play guys like him. I don't have to say anything -- just let my play speak. He was running down guys like Clay who made poor decisions, loudly and derisively yelling, "Come on!"

What can you do? I prefer to let them figure out their mistakes by not saying anything.

I had another blog post to fill out from the other day and I am already writing this. Oh, well. Another time.

Told my wife I was going to take a break from basketball to let my body heal up (eye, groin) and until I can get a new pair of prescription goggles.

You know, for as much as my previous pairs have suffered from blows to the face and head, you would think I would second guess how and why I play basketball. I risk losing vision trusting some specs that I bought at Wal-Mart to keep my eyes safely secured in their orbital resting places.

I have suffered scratches over each eye lid and a lacertion over my eyebrow and orbital bone. Yet, when the goggles break, I put on my glasses and keep running. The clear rec specs that I was using for the last year were supposed to only be my backups, replacement goggles. That's because they were too tight and deemed a waste of money. I kept them and used them to replace the first pair that broke. And now they break and I fix them and my old pair and I still haven't gotten a replacement. Risky?

I play to get back what I missed out on, hoping I'll get back a little of what I lost. This is quality of life. Though, I risk quality life hereafter. Basketball is like a creative outlet, and thus, a source of pleasure for one who yearns to recapture former glory...and possibly still write a new chapter. Just don't know the end to this novel.





 

Bullet Points

I have yet to process the events of the day playing ball at the YMCA gym. I will decompress my thoughts on these subjects and more when I return from dinner with my wife. (Still no kids! But only one whole day left)

I'm An Idiot...
...because my goggles broke away and flew off my face after I got hit gathering in a rebound. My orbital socket started to bleed, so I took myself out of the game. I stopped the bleeding and pulled a band-aid from my wallet and applied it while using the bathroom mirror to place it just over the eyebrow under my glasses. I got back into the next game and played out the day in my regular glasses without incident.

I'm an idiot.

The Saving Play...
...was a thing of beauty. I was playing good defense again and on one particular play I stole a ball in a manner that felt like I had mastered walking a high wire.

The other team had just recovered the ball and the guy I was guarding, Tyrone, was on a hot streak and was ahead of me down court. He had enough room sideline to receive a pass and I had not yet closed on that space. I like to bait people into throwing passes into places where I can close on the ball and steal it. Another player from my team was retreating nearby when I saw the pass come and pounced. They underestimated my closing speed. I had little room to work as I tried to knock the ball to my teammate, but the ball went straight up into the air and I was falling out of bounds. No problem. I managed to cup the ball with my other hand as I was running by and from behind my back was able to flip it without looking to my teammate, who was still standing near. The next thing I know, my teammates were about to score at the other end of the court.

I felt calm, collected and didn't hear any adulation. Because, I think it's expected of me now. Players are not surprised when I make hustle plays like that. I'll say it surprised me, that I pulled it off so adeptly, my saving play.


James Jones and Me...
...both like to shoot the three from way out. When I started stepping back to launch my missles it raised a lot of eyebrows and drew quite a few groans. They weren't going in as frequently, because I was adjusting my game to suit my blindness. So, if I set my feet to shoot more than two feet behind the arc, I heard a lot of teammates dissuade me from trying. I knew I could make them, because I had spent a lot of time shooting them in preparation of pick-up games. But, they didn't know me.

People did know James Jones. As the Green Bay Packers wide receiver, he made a lot of new friends when he came to the gym to play his brand of ball. It involved quite a few pull up threes from 23-feet out or longer. NBA threes. He could make them and didn't look bad missing. I also knew I could can shots like that. He and I developed an unspoken rapport when I kept draining those shots in shoot-a-rounds. He set me up for a few tries in the games we played together. The encouragement helped.

Because he liked my shooting ability and because he paved the way with his long range artillery, more people were accepting when I launched my long heaves that started going in. The more I burned people with that shot, the further out the defense was drawn.

James Jones helped me gain acceptance in that gym where I once felt like a stranger. I now feel people have come to know me through my game and will give me some respect for my shooting ability. And now, I have to prove to them I can do more...off the dribble, as a passer and an inside player.

John Kuhn and Me

I have some thoughts on this Packer player who has participated at the Y and may be returning sometime soon. (Saw him working out on Thursday as I was leaving) I will revisit this part of blog post to finish another time because I cannot recall now what I was thinking of writing.


 

This blog starts Tuesday and ends today...

The Rabbit

He's one of the rabbits I talk about at the YMCA. The run about the floor like their tails on fire and look like their running from something that wants to eat them. (I'll have to work on that some more) But this one, Matt, fakes left and drives with his head down to the hoop every time. He's in his early 20s and nice as can be, but plays on instinct and seldom has a game plan.

Tuesday, he had the ball stripped away over and over. I did it, others who double-teamed him did it. He got triple-teamed on one play and kept trying to dribble through the crowd.

I wanted to help him at one point, but realized he's young and maybe a bit too proud and might not be accepting of advice. I was on the opposing team and I just wanted to tell him you're like a pitcher that needs a change up. You have your fast ball and curve and their working nice, but people can read when they're coming. Do a change of pace once in awhile.

I think if he slows his game down he gets hesitant. Indecision kills. But I find, if you look at the floor before you decide to go, you see options open up. Sometimes, I get caught up in that hurry up pace. Now, I fake passes to open lanes. If I don't see what I like, I can take off myself or just pass out of it.

So few players just pass. If they catch a pass they feel they have to make a play. When the passes were going side to side and someone cut to the basket behind the pass, they open up on the other side when the ball arrives. Poor Matt was not even passing out when he got stuck.

He didn't even have a chance to get stuck by the end of the day. I must have ripped the ball away a half-dozen times include a foul when I blocked his shot. He drives to the basket like he's on rails that eventually bend to the hoop and he'll try to bound over you when he finishes the play. I just run to the basket rather than try to keep pace with him, because I know where he's going. So, if I make a bee line and just cut to the hoop, I have him. I can propel him away or force him into an awkward shot. He seems to throw up a few of those. They go in sometimes, so that encourages his style of play.

What also encourages him is people who don't take the time to learn what he prefers doing. He had started going to his left there for a time and it worked, but familiarity is what we all seem to return to, especially when not consciously playing the game to outsmart an opponent.

Athletically, he can beat me...if I let him. If I have to guard him straight up, it's not a problem. When I double team, I take a way his lane to the hoop and force him back out. It's simple stuff and actual inspires my play when I can shut him down like this.

After our short day of games were over after an hour and a quarter of play, he sat in the middle of the court with his arms bent over his knees keeping his head low toward his lap. Someone asked him if he was alright. I didn't have to ask. I wanted to offer advice. But, so few people want to discuss the game with me and it feels unnatural to just offer my advice. He's got his buddies who mostly tease him when he has a bad day, or feed him when he's hot.

I preferred to walk away and not get involved. I feel, if he brings it up when I am in ear shot, I might offer the bit about needing a change up. Just pass out of double teams because someone nearby is open. It worked for Mike and I today.

A guy named Phil was on Mike who was trying to feed me in the post. I had Jimmy on me, a big mismatch as he's over a half a foot shorter than me and even older! I had already scored in the post once when Mike dribbled down to the corner to set me up again. Phil dropped back in front of me and gave Mike a wide open three-pointer which he drained. It broke open the game for us, as we eventually won.

We talked about if afterward and how helpful it is to get a good shooter and post player playing two-on-two on one side of the court. You have options like passing out of a double team to feed a hot shooter or vice-versa if a post player can force the action underneath.

I made a lot of errors today. It was hot in the gym and I think not having much caffeine to consume before starting slowed me. My shooting was off and I didn't stretch or prepare as well as I should. I have the whole week with the kids at Grandma's, so I'll have another try tomorrow to do things differently.

Though, I should get some housework done. Not everyday I can just rip everything apart and put it back together without little hands getting in the mix and making off with my stuff.

Matt Learns A Lesson?

Wednesday, Matt returned to the gym. I hollered encouragement as he surprised me. He drove the lane, drew the defense and set up shooters on the wing several times for scores. He must have known what he was doing wrong and was thinking hard about it. Things opened up for him yesterday and his play was much better.

My play was okay. I didn't shoot well for a second day and my body tightened up. I have not been stretching or preparing correctly. I felt something pop under my patellar strap. I think I had a small muscle pull or spasm, perhaps attached to my hamstring. It wasn't enough to hobble me, but gave me concern. I didn't do anything about it. At that point, you can't stretch it out any more. I opted to play through it, feeling the strap was holding in whatever it was that was trying to pop out.

I need to hydrate more and properly stretch. I kept playing at the gym a secret today, as I had given Jen the impression I would be doing other things. I did rush home and rip apart the garage right away. It's still a mess today, Thursday, as I plan to properly prepare to play ball again. I feel this is rare to have no kids and I can get to the gym. But I am being a bit selfish and stupid about it and not doing this the right way.

It's like there is a big piece of delicious chocolate cake on my plate, but I'm gobbling it up too fast. Either I get indigestion, or I fail to savor the confection from being too hasty. There needs to be an art to enjoying everything. Sometimes, it just takes eating a whole lot of chocolate cake before you really understand the best way to enjoy it. Hmmm, wonder what we've got to eat around here?