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Key To Aging Is Playing The Game Smarter

I have loved the game of basketball since I was a boy. I learned the game by spending hours shooting hoops on a dirt court in my parents’ backyard.

I played at all times of the day and in all types of weather. When it was cold, I would layer shirts to avoid wearing a coat minimizing any effect on my shot. When it rained, I would shoot and hurry to catch the ball before it hit the ground hoping to keep it from getting muddy.

My favorite thing to watch on television was a basketball game. As a teen, I would plan my weekend around the televised games. Saturday was college games and Sunday was NBA games. I finished all my chores on Saturday to make sure I was seated and ready for the Kentucky vs. Louisville tip off. I would encourage my mom to hurry Sunday lunch to make sure I caught the Celtics scoring their first point of the first game of the day’s double header.

I played basketball for a small rural high school in central Louisiana. Talent wasn’t too deep, but we all played with heart. Our tallest player was only six foot two. We won a few games, but we were never a big threat to the other teams.

Basketball has always found its way into my life. I have played on church teams and sought out pick-up games at the local playgrounds. When I need to get in shape and drop a few pounds, I turn to the hardwoods. It doesn’t always come back as easily as I would hope, but the feel of the ball in the palm of my hand, the ease of my bounce pass, and the sound of the swoosh as the ball finds its way through the metal orange ring suspended ten feet above the floor reignites my interest and passion for the game.

You would assume that the best playing days of such a high impact sport comes when you are young of age. And it is true that there were days as a senior in high school when I felt unstoppable – when I was in the zone.

Motivated by the urgings of a friend of mine, I am back on the court. Sadly, the swoosh sounds are not as frequent as I would like.

And the swooshes that occur cannot be heard because of my panting and gasping for air. Playing when I am forty-five is different from playing when I was nineteen.

“I’ll spot you five,” Hugo offers generously. Hugo plays regularly, is in great shape, is a great player, and is five years my senior. He is my inspiration.

It’s true that my legs give out before my will. My shot falls off as I tire. And I am experiencing more “agony of defeat” than “thrill of victory.” But Hugo offers tips, gives encouraging “good shot” kudos, and lightens up on his defensive play.

He wins again, but I’m not discouraged.

“By Christmas I’ll only be spotting you two points,” he says nodding with certainty. I appreciate his optimism.

Growing older has its draw backs. The days of running up and down the court effortlessly are gone. My knees crack, my muscles complain and my back is stiff after a good workout.

But I’m learning that I can still perform at a high level even as the years drop behind me – I just have to play differently. I’m learning that playing smarter closes the gap between years.

When I play now, I see the entire court instead of just my small part of it. I am aware of other players more. I pass more, and I give the shots to my teammate instead of charging to the basket oblivious of others.

Lessons learned on the court translate well to life in general. We can not avoid getting older, but the key is to play smarter and to take time to enjoy the game more!

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