For a number of years, my mother has referred to me as her “idiot son” because I continue to play basketball after surgeries for hip replacements, torn meniscuses and my back. Typically, I’ll learn of the latest remark from one of my brothers when they visit my home and witness me limping around or suffering from some other aches or pains after playing basketball earlier in the day.
Other times, she’ll just mutter something like: you’re an idiot” to me the next time I see her.
I always just laugh.
While I know she’s correct and that anyone with half a brain in their head would have quit playing the game a long time ago, I’ve always just told myself that I still enjoy it too much to give it up just yet.
The truth is I still think I’m pretty good at it, at least when I’m healthy, and I guess I feel as though I’ll lose a bit of my identity when I actually do quit playing. I may be 56 years old now and no longer play as often but I still think of myself as a basketball player.
Of course, I think of myself as more than just a basketball player. I’m also a son, brother, husband and a father among many other things. But, I’ve been a basketball player for almost 50 years now so that’s been a part of my personal identity as well for most of my life.
This past weekend, three of my former high school teammates and I went to a Seattle playground to scrimmage against one of my friends’ 19-year-old son and two of his fraternity brothers. Like us, they are going to be participating at Hoopfest in Spokane later this month.
Two days prior, I’d gone to the local junior high to play a number of one-on-one basketball games against a younger fellow in an effort to continue to fine-tune my game and further my conditioning. I was pleased with the result of that outing but found my lower back tightening up by the time we finished.
I woke up the next day with an extremely stiff and sore lower back and spent all day Friday in pain. I took a hot bath that night and slept with a heat pad on in hopes that the back would be in better shape when I awoke the next morning.
Unfortunately, when I awoke Saturday there was no improvement and I found it challenging to dress and bend down and tie my shoes. Since we were already scheduled to play the three young men at 11:00 a.m. and one of my teammates was driving all the way over from Spokane to play, I felt an obligation to make an effort to go and play despite the pain and restricted mobility.
So, I took some Aleve, tried to do as much stretching as I could and made a quick trip to the chiropractor to receive an adjustment. Afterward, I was hopeful that would be good enough to enable me to get through the next few hours.
But, once I arrived at the playground in Seattle and got out of my car I knew I was in trouble. Every step I took was painful and it was very difficult for me to bend over. We had a bit of time to shoot around before the youngsters showed up, but I chose to use the bulk of that to stretch in a futile attempt to loosen my lower back up.
At that point, I should have informed my teammates that it wasn’t in my best interest to try and play and that I should really just sit it out. But, one of them really shouldn’t have been out there either since he had undergone some medical tests during the week and had been told to avoid any physical exertion until his next appointment the coming week with a cardiologist.
Obviously, I wasn’t the only idiot son out there.
The young bloods showed up and we spent the next 45 minutes or so playing three-on-three. The four half-centurions substituted throughout the contest but looked as slow as molasses against the three 19-20 year olds.
I had been looking forward to the outing and earlier in the week cockily suggested I had $20 that said I could defeat one of my teammate’s sons in a game of one-on-one. I wasn’t kidding and I still believe I might be able to do it if I was healthy. But, I was far from healthy when we played ball this past Saturday. Just walking was extremely painful, let alone trying to play basketball.
Thankfully, there was no discussion about playing any one-on-one.
But, I played three-on-three, or at least tried to, and I was extremely ineffective. I hit a few shots from the outside but once my defender started coming out on me it was all over, as I literally couldn’t drive toward the hoop at all. There was just no way that I could make any quick movements one way or another because it was just too painful. Of course, that meant that I couldn’t help create any offensive opportunities for my teammates either.
As for playing defense, well, it’s hard enough covering a kid that young when you’re 56 years old and perfectly healthy let alone with a bad back. I was a defensive liability the whole time. Worse, I spent the majority of the next two days lying flat on my back trying to recover from whatever further damage I did to my back by playing when I should have been laying low. It remains to be seen how long it will take to return to form.
Midway, through the games our big man tweaked his own back on a drive toward the hoop, heard a popping sound and dropped to all fours in pain. I was afraid he was done for good when I saw that. He removed himself from the game and gingerly walked around the outside of the court while the rest of us continued.
Ultimately, he returned and played some more as well and we later learned he’d just twisted his vertebrae, according to his chiropractor.
So you see, as it turns out I’m not alone, apparently a number of my teammates are idiot sons as well.
Why should anyone expect anything different? It’s the way most of us were taught to play the game. Unless you’re on your deathbed or something is broken you give it a go.
Hopefully, three weeks from now the stars will align and all four of us will actually show up healthy and we’ll manage to remain that way throughout the weekend.
I wouldn’t bet on that though. On the other hand, it would probably be a safe wager that all the idiot sons will be there and attempt to play regardless of whether or not they should.
