Getting Buckets
I have a buddy who still plays rec league hoops. I’m approaching 54 years of age and have been retired from such action for a long time.
My buddy is actually 3 years older than me.
“I’ve been feeling some pain in one of my hammy’s,” he said, as we went to lunch. He ordered a salad.
I went with the fried bologna.
“How are you still playing?” I asked.
He pointed at the salad.
Dope.
My boys play every day. I returned from work the other day and Jake immediately went for my keys.
“Where you going?”
“We’re going to get buckets,” Jake said.
That’s new.
We’d call it shooting hoops.
When I played in my 20’s and 30’s we’d play on Sunday mornings, Monday and Thursday nights. We’d get 15-20 guys and we’d run hard.
I miss it.
Jake and Sam and their friends also shoot in the driveway a lot. If I’m walking out they’ll toss the ball to me. I’ll take one shot.
It’s been years since I made one!
And I could really shoot.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped out at my Mom’s to sit on the riding mower. My brother had hung a hoop on the pole.
We’d played hundreds of games there.
Two on twos.
Just Brothers.
I grabbed the ball and went to the spot where I’d taken thousands of shots.
I put it up.
Swish.
I only took three more shots.
Missed them all.
But I’d made the first one.
“How’d you play?” I asked Jake when he returned from his game.
“Dominated,” he said.
Like father, like son.
He probably didn’t, but he’s got the trash talking down...
...just like his old man.
My buddy is actually 3 years older than me.
“I’ve been feeling some pain in one of my hammy’s,” he said, as we went to lunch. He ordered a salad.
I went with the fried bologna.
“How are you still playing?” I asked.
He pointed at the salad.
Dope.
My boys play every day. I returned from work the other day and Jake immediately went for my keys.
“Where you going?”
“We’re going to get buckets,” Jake said.
That’s new.
We’d call it shooting hoops.
When I played in my 20’s and 30’s we’d play on Sunday mornings, Monday and Thursday nights. We’d get 15-20 guys and we’d run hard.
I miss it.
Jake and Sam and their friends also shoot in the driveway a lot. If I’m walking out they’ll toss the ball to me. I’ll take one shot.
It’s been years since I made one!
And I could really shoot.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped out at my Mom’s to sit on the riding mower. My brother had hung a hoop on the pole.
We’d played hundreds of games there.
Two on twos.
Just Brothers.
I grabbed the ball and went to the spot where I’d taken thousands of shots.
I put it up.
Swish.
I only took three more shots.
Missed them all.
But I’d made the first one.
“How’d you play?” I asked Jake when he returned from his game.
“Dominated,” he said.
Like father, like son.
He probably didn’t, but he’s got the trash talking down...
...just like his old man.
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