Remember the Seinfeld episode where Kramer says he's master of his dojo?
I felt like that last week. We had a team lunch at the park next to campus (pizza), and a few of us played a game of pick-up basketball afterwards.
The teams weren't fair - NN and I were on the same team, and we were definitely the best players. I was a good 6 inches taller than the other team. I'd actually played organized basketball at some point. And even though I hadn't touched a basketball in a good 12-16 months, I dominated the game. If I'd just hit 30% of my layups, the game would have been over in half the time. I even drove on people (and if you knew the way I played, the defenders had to be bad).
Of course, after not playing in over a year, I ached the next day. My hands and forearms were sore the next day from dribbling. And I actually jammed my hand and the ball into the support saving a ball from going out of bounds. Just yet more proof that I'm old.
The whole time I couldn't stop thinking of Kramer.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment