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No Playground For Old Men - The Sequel

As I've already established in this blog, playing tackle football with high school kids a third of my age is not a good idea.

But what about basketball?

One of my son Rob's hoops-playing friends latched on to the fact that the Janesville YMCA was letting people in for free this past weekend. So he and some of the other kids that frequent the outdoor baskets at Milton East decided to take advantage of the available indoor court time.

When Rob's friend Tim called to organize the game, they had two questions for me: could I drive, and did I want to play? Forgetting the pain and embarrassment from my football experience, I quickly answered in the affirmative. (Tim must have only remembered the first football game I played, before I devolved into a limping senior citizen.)

As we drew closer to the Sunday of the big game, more details emerged. This was going to be a real five-on-five full-court game. Gulp. After days of Christmas feasting, how in the heck was an out-of-shape middle-aged guy going to run up and down the court for a couple of hours?

I got genuinely nervous anticipating the game. All I wanted to do was to not embarrass myself and be looked upon as a pathetic old man trying to hang onto his fading youth. Remembering how easily my leg muscles tweaked playing football, I started stretching about two hours before tip-off, and continued on and off until we left for the gym. I probably did more stretching than the guy from the Fantastic Four.

The boys were smart in scheduling the game for noon on Sunday, as most humans in Wisconsin were busy watching the Packers play Seattle with a playoff berth at stake. And sure enough, when we arrived at the Y, we had the J.P. Cullen Gym all to ourselves – me and nine boys in their mid-teens.

While I had the major disadvantage of being three times their age, I had the advantage of being the tallest one on the court. That also helped equalize the fact that these kids play a lot and they have developed some pretty good shooting eyes.

When all was said and done, I had nothing to be worried about. To my surprise, I never really got winded going up and down the court. I can't account for this, except possibly that the adrenalin I get from playing took over and kept me going.

Whenever I play any kind of sport, I play hard and probably somewhat reckless. When I used to play racquetball regularly, the fact that I wore knee pads cracked people up. But I had to – I was constantly skinning my knees from diving after shots.

This game was no exception – I have floor burns on my elbow and knee to prove it. I ended up on the court several times, either scrambling after loose balls or as the result of collisions. In fact, the worst collision came later in the afternoon, when we decided to play some two-on-two. Rob went up to block my shot and his knee caught me square in a place a male would rather not be hit. A couple of minutes later, when I could finally compose myself enough to speak, I alerted everyone that Rob would never have to worry about more siblings.

But other than that, the floor burns, some minor stiffness and a multi-colored bruise on my bicep, I am no more the worse for wear for my experience. But best of all...I had fun. I had a great time playing with my son and a pretty good group of young men.

So when's the next game, guys?