Well, at least for me.
I called again this year. In fact, I called over 100 games in all, though I was offered twice that number. I spent most of the time in pain I would describe as moderate to severe. Frequently, once the games started, it was possible to put the pain aside and just get into the Holy Sport.
I ran as well as I have for years, purposely not taking off a trip up or down the court. I found myself able to make the turn, check the lane and work either the base-line or the arc. I saw some good games, some dreadful games and made some friends.
My partner during the first game of the year was a large black man I did not like much during the game we did together. I walked off the court that night thinking I would not want to call with him again.
Then, God said, "Make him your friend."
So, I called the young man and made a date for some coffee. We talked about officiating, about conditioning, knowing the mechanics, getting in position. Then, I offered him some officiating opportunities for the rest of the year.
We have been on the court about a dozen times since then. He has become my friend.
We were walking out of an inner city gym one night, late, the game ending in an overtime frenzy in a ratty old gym where suburban kids would not deign to shower. The parking lot was mostly empty, the night was dark and late.
"I'll walk you to your truck," my friend told me.
"You don't have to do that," I told him. "I can get there."
"I used to live down here," he answered. "There were times we would not let you white boys out."
He was not laughing when he said it.
We parted amiably. He is my friend. I am proud to step on a court with him.
God, as usual, was right.
I dropped just over eleven pounds during the season and consumed a boat load of Advil.
Yes, I am proud to have finished this season. My hardest stretch was one during tournament season,when I stepped on the court at noon one Saturday. My relief did not show up, not at all unusual these days. I walked off the court at seven in the evening, one game after another, non-stop, seven hours of interval running.
Yes, I spoke the next day. On my feet.
My plan is to live right up to the moment I don't anymore.
Opinions expressed here are mine alone.
RICK,
Way to go sir! You are the man of the BB court. We are proud of you You will live longer than most of us due to your fine physical condition. Keep it up. Again I say, YOU ARE THE MAN!
Posted by: Robert | February 21, 2012 at 10:34 PM
Hmmm, I was going to say something like Robert did so I will just ditto...
Posted by: Robert F Revier (RobeFRe) | March 05, 2012 at 12:16 AM