I went to Wall-Mart with my wife, and for the first time in 30 years held a basketball in my hands. Instantly memories from my youth were pounding up the stairs from the basement of my mind. I played on my first Basketball Team in Fourth Grade. I was the smallest guy in the League.
In HS, I was the last guy cut, four years in a row. So I played CYO Ball, and AAU Ball. I was a bit of a hot dog, if you were open, I could hit you with a pass- so shooters loved me. I could drive to the hoop with gay abandon, sadly, I was only a below average shooter. Sigh.

People who played on my teams would always remark when one of my shots went in: "I will have to go to Church on Sunday, your shot went in, that means their is a God, and he took pity on you."

I loved Basketball. I didn't break five feet until after my 18th birthday. Finally topping out at a whopping five foot six. I had hops and quickness, but no speed. In HS they said I set the record for the 100 yard dash: I took more steps than anyone in history. Basically, if you timed me in the 100...you needed a minute hand. But for three yards...I was a flash.

I used to carry a ball with me to school, and dribble the whole way. I was so dedicated and delusional, I didn't give up my dream to play Pro Ball, until I was 21. Considering I never even played in Junior College (where I did run X-country and ran Track (Half mile and up...no sprints!)- I think I qualified as delusional. But it didn't matter. I loved the game. I drove from park to park looking for pick up games when I wasn't on a Team.

The last time I touched a basketball, I was in my late thirties. And a couple of times I shot around my best friend's driveway when visiting him. Dribbling on gravel is a trip. By Forty I was done. And that was more than thirty years ago.

Today, I was young again. I loved the feel of the ball, the grip, the smell of the leather, and the feel of the grooves and pebbling that is so important if you are a ball handler. I even took a few shots at an imaginary basket right there in the aisle at Wall- Mart. Missed two out of three.

I went to do some dribble behind my back, and between my legs...and surprisingly those felt so natural and easy. Then I tried to go behind my back, and forgot how big my ass is now. The ball just...stopped. Bringing it back to the front it stopped again. Somehow I have grown a belly.
I bet I dribbled up and down that aisle ten times. And loved every second of it. I almost bought that basketball. And then I remembered. I don't have my own hips anymore. I have arthritis in my Spine. And I have blown out both achilles tendons, one reaching for a volleyball to throw it back to the kids, and the other one went pushing a car. So yeah, better to put the ball back in the rack.

I wonder if I met any of the kids who knew me before I went in the Army would believe me if I told them I don't play basketball, or at least coach. They might be even more surprised that I don't swim anymore either. And running...well, that's out too. I left all those behind for long slow walks.

Funnily enough, until today, I don't really think much about anything I can't do anymore. The things I could do are so far back in my past, that it is like I am looking back at someone else. I am happy with what I can do. I walk every day. And a decade ago, I could even walk uphill! My Kathy and my Daughers often join me for my walks...and that is just fine with me.

But today, well, today I dribbled a basketball, and for just a few minutes, it felt wonderful. I kinda wished I would have hit more of the imaginary shots, but I will settle for the five assists I got in my imagination.