I had completed the first half of my grueling cardio workout (OK … a slightly grueling 20 minutes on the elliptical), and decided to take advantage of an open basketball court instead of Part II on the treadmill (normally 25 minutes).
My gazelle-like movements on the court (Picture a very old, slightly overweight gazelle.), abundance of old-guy energy, and my deadly accurate, quick release was obviously turning some heads. I’m pretty sure I sealed the deal when they saw my signature Jabbar-like sky hook.
That would be Maurice Jabbar, a 75 year-old I once saw play in the Smithsonian Geriatric League. He owned that guy in the wheelchair! And maybe “sky hook” is a bit of an over-sell; but it sounds a lot sexier than “hop hook”!
Anyways … I’m working up a good sweat and in mid turn-around jumper (Picture … Well, you get the picture already.) I sense someone behind.
“Hey, want to play two-on-two?”
It’s a guy about half my age. (OK … Half my age 10 years ago …. maybe 15) Obviously he was impressed. Or maybe just really desperate for a playing partner.
What he doesn’t realize is I’m very near passing out; everything south of my waist (Yes, everything!) is groaning for me to stop; and I feel one sudden move away from a major muscle spasm.
I must have looked at him like he had six heads, because he suddenly looked alarmed and glanced around … probably to locate the nearest portable defibrillator.
I took in a huge breath; mustered all my remaining strength; and very slowly told him, “Thanks, but … I’m … almost done … here. And … have to … go soon. Besides … you guys … are … way … too young … for me …”
He looked either disappointed or relieved that he wouldn’t have to administer CPR. It was tough to tell through the gauzy haze of my overheated, sweat-drenched face.
“But you’ll be on my side.”, he said.
My guess is he was an ER doc.