I realize that this post sounds a lot like some others from the past. But it never ceases to amaze me how a game so simple can always feel different and how some moments in basketball continually make me grin so big my face hurts. Yeah, that’s right, my face hurts and, I know, it’s killing you. (Ha.)
So Wednesday we are playing ball and, truth be told, we are getting beat up pretty bad because I was attempting to play defense on the other team’s best offensive player. (And I’m a horrible defender.) In the last game—because that’s the only one, historically, that really matters—we are down by three points when it becomes apparent that we are about to be kicked off the court we are playing on; about 60 or more boys attending a BYU basketball camp had filed in and were about to start their drills.
So Wednesday we are playing ball and, truth be told, we are getting beat up pretty bad because I was attempting to play defense on the other team’s best offensive player. (And I’m a horrible defender.) In the last game—because that’s the only one, historically, that really matters—we are down by three points when it becomes apparent that we are about to be kicked off the court we are playing on; about 60 or more boys attending a BYU basketball camp had filed in and were about to start their drills.
As we were losing, and time was limited, I did what I had to. I hollered out, “Next point wins,” called for the ball as I drifted to the left side of the three-point line, tossed up a shot, and buried it. The reaction from the boys on the sidelines was audible, almost palpable. I just turned away from the line and walked away like Jimmer after he made his half court shot against Utah. No big deal. :)
