SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

Yesterday

WARNING...not a well written blog post. Or, a subject of much interest to fellow WDCers. Lots of stale sports metaphors and word usage. Just wanted to journal about this so I can move on...


You know, yesterday wasn't so bad. I have been in a bit of a groove with my game. And, my body didn't ache much when I got up Friday morning. Prior to leaving for the gym I felt somewhat spry, which is a testament to how old my mind feels with the use of 'spry'.

I gave myself time again to prepare, warm-up. My rec specs made it through another day. I really need to order new goggles. So, I had that going for me.

I had the three-pointer striking fear in the heart of my defenders again. I usually can tell, because their feet are moving quicker and closer to me on the perimeter. Their eyes seem to open wider, dilate. I pride myself in taking the pulse of my opponents while I play. Sometimes, they avoid eye contact or conversation. It's as if they hold their breath until the moment that defender needs to propel himself at you.

(Just as a side note...it amazes me still that as a 'legally blind' guy I can still pick up on these signals and find lanes to run in, or catch the ball and shoot. There are days when I am hesitant because I let someone or something get into my head and cannot make a play. But, when the light is on, I just go and let instinct take over. It works well for me when I trust it. Why would I ever not trust my abilities. You get into a funk just because you let doubt creep in? Failure seems to be the greatest signifier of ability and if we let others measure us by it, we fail ourselves. More on this subject another time...)

I had them chasing me on my v-cuts. I especially taunted Tyler, a heavy set young guy who was a bit red in the face and kept reminding me that I seemed to be especially quick. I didn't really draw the attention of my teammates, because I seldom got the ball for all my momentum unless I popped out on the perimeter behind a screen.

On Tuesday, I even impressed myself with one particular v-cut when I took my defender with me behind a screen like I was going to pop out on the wing. Noting he was ready to duck under it and follow me, I made a quick cut back like I was going to run along the baseline into the corner all alone. He started back, but didn't know I hadn't committed my body to the motion, spun and drove my legs 180 degrees back into my original direction. I punctuated the effort after receiving the pass outside the arc and knocking down a three.

That moment could not be topped by my Friday highlight. It was the second to the last game. I was getting quicker to the ball as the games went on. Friday introduced a lot of younger players, suspecting most come home from their secondary institutions of higher learning to take a break with us older guys. I got the best of my guy and his teammate on one particular play.

They had been picking and rolling a lot, especially with me. I don't know if it worked out that way or if they were targeting an older, slower player in me. But, even a blind squirrel is going to find a nut eventually.

We needed two baskets to finish the game. I always save myself for the final push, and I was finally ready to take on my teammate's object of attention when Tyler set a screen and the ball handler leaked out in my direction. A person knows in these situations the object is not to pass but drive and score. I popped out behind Tyler and left no room for the young fella to squeeze between us. I got down low and waited for that quick, low dribble before he attempted to drive by me through the lane to the bucket. I got him!

The ball squibbed a bit on the floor after I knocked it forward. It then rolled in a semi-circle around Tyler's feet. He lost sight of the ball because he was so busy protecting himself on the screen. I stayed low and went around Tyler like I was chasing one of my youngins around a tree. I nabbed it quick and looked up. My teammate had broken away from the play and was just past mid court.

I had the ball in my left hand. I can make some pretty sweet passes with either mitt. I needed a little extra hot sauce and used my right hand to help propel the pass from the left side of my body. It hit him perfectly in stride some 25 feet away before he finished at the goal with the original ball handler trailing, trying to defend against the inevitable score.

I allowed myself to boast, since no one said anything. I knew it was my highlight reel and roared, "Now that's how you do it!" That's all I said. I didn't rave like Dick Weber's boy in that hilarious bowling win rant. But, I didn't try to sound modest either or back off the comment. I was enjoying picking that young man's pocket and putting that acorn in the tree for safe keeping. I also know these guys tend to be a bit braggadocious themselves, so if you show them up, you can get in their heads and soften them up.

Sure enough, those picks continued to be set. However, the kid I got the best of didn't use any of them and never drove by me when he saw me cheating his way for a possible double team. I would not get my hand in the cookie jar for another treat. By keeping him out of the lane, we were able to finish that game when I received a pass on the wing from my ol' buddy Mike and drained the necessary three to complete our mission for a win. The high fives were sweet!

I drained a pair of threes in the final game, but could tell everybody was running out of gas. Even Tyler couldn't finish the last game, as we begged other players not to leave and give us one more to finish the day. It would have been better if I had two days in a row with walk off threes. But, I enjoyed running around the court with Kenny, who is a month younger than me. He really knows how to use spacing well, and the screens. He ball fakes and goes under you when you overcommit to drain shot after shot. He did tweak his knee during the game, so we took a play off to watch the younger guys take off ahead of us down the court. I didn't need the rest, but by staying back I also don't allow him to slip behind me for an easy score should the rabbits turn the ball over and send the action back up court. Y ball at its best.

Anti-climactic finish deserves no true end to this blog entry. Unless I think of something to add later...