Getting Too #*%^&! Old

I first started playing basketball when I was 11 years old, having moved to South Jordan and entered West Jordan Junior High School (the "Shamrocks" ... yes, the fighting Shamrocks!). I was involved in helping my PE teacher do some research on what must have been a thesis for his Master's Degree. This entailed visiting a number of schools and conducting tests on those trying out for their teams. So I would use a stopwatch and time players as they ran through a series of skills exercises. I'm not clear on the hypothesis for the research and never was all that interested in the results. But I did get hooked on basketball. Unfortunately, I was not particularly skilled and also was not in good physical shape. When I first started running up and down the court I would get so light headed that I thought I was going to faint. I was glad to get past that stage fairly quickly and develop the stamina and wind that allowed me to play.

Today there are organized basketball leagues starting at very young ages. At that time we had little league baseball and football, but there was no opportunity to play basketball outside of pickup games with friends in the driveway. I dreamed of being good enough to play at the highest level, but obviously that was not in the cards for someone with my stature and skills. I did make the high school team my first (sophomore) year, but was not as skilled as most of the other players who had been on the Junior High team. Church basketball provided another outlet for competition and some wonderful opportunities, including playing on a team with former high school players that won the All Church Tournament championship game (Junior Division) the last year this contest was held. What a thrill that was!

Fast forward forty years -- I am still playing basketball Saturday mornings at the church, mostly with people 20-30 years younger. I have certainly lost a step, but still can play at a respectable level. However, every so often I sustain an injury that has Brenda questioning my sanity. Earlier this year I lost a toenail when another player landed hard on my foot. And yesterday I landed on another player's foot and sprained my ankle.

These images show how a sprain occurs and the results. The photo is not of my ankle, but this is what my ankle looks like today. I suspect that later this week the bruising will be very colorful. While I'm not surprised to sprain an ankle, I am disheartened by how long healing seems to take now. My aging body wonders why I am still playing a young man's game and is encouraging me to think about retiring!