Glory Days

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Last week I went to one of Matt's basketball games and all of the old feelings started to stir. It's weird, but watching kids play high school basketball takes me back to the days when I played.

I remember how it felt to shoot a free throw, what it was like to see the ball go through the net as other people cheered. How wonderful it was to be on display with my friends as the whole school and the girls we all had crushes on looked on.

Yes, every time I watch a game all those things come to the surface. I hardly remember that I rode the pine a bit. I don't even consider that during my first game on the varsity I get hit with an elbow thrown by Digger Braymiller and ended up breathing in smelling salts moments after entering the game. (Digger was on my team).

I forget about the fact that I had so much arc on my shot that in the middle of one game I struck the rings high above the court and the crowd laughed when the ball landed a foot in front of me.

I don't even try to recall that I was once put in the game to take a half court shot, decided I should try to get a little closer, dribbled the ball off my foot, and was greeted by the coach who yelled at me for longer than I was in the game.

Where are the girls we all had crushes on? Not even one of us ended up with one of them. Man, that was so important back then.

Why do I bring it all up?

Well, I'm supposed to play in an alumni basketball game tonight. I've been dragging my right leg since July, but you know what?

I'm going.

All of that past 'glory' is too much to pass up.

My buddy Jeff Renaldo and his boys are playing on the team.

"I already told my kids," Jeff said, "that if you pass the ball to Cliff on the offensive end, just head back on defense because he's shooting it."

Sounds about right.

I'm ready to dominate!

Tomorrow's blog will be called "Six-to-Eight Weeks to Heal."

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