SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

Disrespect = Motivation

Tuesday is usually the day furthest removed from the last time I played basketball and the day my performance is at its worst. I would say today was no exception, except I got a little motivation along the way.

I got to the gym on time, but they were already playing. My first game was a bit rusty. I could have used more time to stretch, warm-up. I didn't make a lot of bad plays, but the longer I played I realized I could not score. So, I focused on setting screens, playing defense and hustling to the ball.

Dan is a particularly pesky match up. He is half a foot shorter than me and tries to take me in the post. He has post moves that involve misdirection, ball fakes and wrapping the ball behind his back and switching hands to score. What is difficult about guarding a shorter person on defense is they can get their upper body into your hip area and muscle you for space. Since I was not as limber as I could have been, I could not lower my body to his level to get back that advantage. What I did get from him irritated me.

Dan chicken-winged me the first time he had the ball and went up for a shot. Just shot his elbow right into my mid-secton and pushed me out. I was angry and let it bother me, as he continued to lower his shoulder into me everytime he got an angle and gave me a shot to the body to make space before his move. It's not illegal to lay your body on an opponent to make space, you're just not allowed to push. I got so frustrated, I lunged at the ball and my head collided with his body and I looked silly as he flew past me down the floor. I finally hollered at him to stop pushing off, but it didn't really set in with him.

All of this was forcing me to hustle more and make plays because I was tired of getting beat by a cheater. I hoisted a three that felt like it was going down and yelled, "Boom!" before it hit the back of the iron and caromed away. I chuckled foolishly knowing that I was not going to defeat anyone using bravado, so I took it down a notch and finished the game. Oddly, Dan and I were cool after the game. As guys, we didn't talk about the altercation and just shot around waiting for the next game to start.

My play gradually got better as the games continued. I was getting to the basket, grabbing rebounds and had a few put backs. The YMCA director was on my team one game. Brent used his massive body to take out my defender and his own who I managed to trap behind him by pretending to go behind his screen and then stepping back for a three that still got challenged when both players managed to find a little daylight. I loved a good challenge with a teammate to use as my gunsight, downing a long three that took a hit from the back of the rim. I yelled "Long!" before I had to retract my declaration. "But not too long."

And then it was the return of young Mike who I had an issue with as my teammate about a week ago. He was on my team one game and wondered why I had left my guy to trap the player he was guarding under the basket. There had been a mad scramble after several missed shots and I left my man in hopes of securing a rebound. So, I never left when the guy he was guarding came out under the backboard along the baseline. After he yelled, "What are you doing here," I twice pinned the ball in that players hands as they tried to pass out of the double team. I nearly got the steal but had to run back to my guy when a pass successfully broke the pressure.

What an idiot, I thought. But, I ignored it and continued on.

It was near the end of games and again we were begging people to stay when we managed to get the first of two games of four-on-four going. A young, lanky fella and I chose each other to guard because we were familiar with guarding one another. I'm a good post defender and he fears going into the post against me, hoping to can an outside shot or get a fast break going. But Mike decides to shout out across the court to the rest of his team, "Mismatch!" referring to us. I looked at the kid and said, "Do you think so?" He shrugged somewhat sheepishly. I was going to take advantage of that comment.

I shut him down the entire game while I was guarding him. Everytime Mike had the ball I stepped back, extended my palm to the guy I was guarding as if to say, 'give him the ball. Let's see what he's got.' He could not dribble past me, dumped the ball to someone else and disappeared on the other side of the floor, away from the play. I was psyching out my opponent into passivity. And when he did get near the ball, I was extremely aggressive and kept moving my feet so he had no free space in which to room. I got behind that screen by Brent and drained that three. We trounced the other team 22-9.

Mike showed his defeat like usual. He takes these games and himself too seriously, though I think I understand why. He doesn't want to be the worst player on the court, or the guy that people yell at for making mistakes. He'll fire off the first salvo. But, disrespect me and I am not an empathic individual. But, I am now.

Mike played a little better in the late game and I let my guy take some uncontested threes. But, I would not let him win the game with the second the last shot. He got the ball under the basket on the fly and took his direction to the other side of the goal away from me. It was setting up so nicely as I followed. He turned and went up for a short shot rather than stopping short and putting the ball up directly under the basket, or giving me a ball fake, and I timed his leap as I leapt to meet the ball as it was released and cleanly blocked it. Now, I did not recover as quickly as he, when he picked up the ball and took a dribble past me to put up a second shot back on the other side of the hoop to finish the game.

I told him exactly what I was thinking and how I was able to defend him on the play and what he could have done to avoid it, suggesting and up-and-under move next time. I don't know if he has that in his repetoire, but thought a little friendly advice to a young athlete might help. Since, I am not about winning but sharing with others a game I love.

I thought about addressing Mike after the game, but he was busy chatting it up with anyone who listened. I wondered if any of them even care, because they shared so little in return. So, therefore, I feel sorry for him. I don't think anyone really takes him that seriously, but if he would stop hating on me, I might be able to enlighten him. Though, I doubt it.

Young and impetuous. That was me once. I played the way I felt. I endured a lot of criticism and ignored most of it. I was a superior athlete who could beat anyone I wanted off the dribble. And if I couldn't shake them, I would rise up, outleap them and unleash shot after shot. My goal wasn't to win so much as it was to score, score, score. I alienated myself from one team after boasting a 53-point performance. Yet, if I could, I would shoot the daylights out of the ball still. If I caught fire. If my team would let me. It's not the old days anymore.

I can barely get respect from a hack player named Mike.


(Got to get home before the kids, since I'm writing this at the library next door to the Y.)