chinks in the armor...

Today I was reminded of my mortality yet again. Well, let me stop being so dramatic. I did not have a brush with death. I was not diagnosed with some serious illness. No, I didn't go to a fortune teller and receive word that I would meet my maker in 30 days. (But if I had, wouldn't that be something!? What would I do with the next 30 days..starting now? Sounds like the subject for another entry...). No, today it was my basketball mortality, if you will.

Sure, that sounds silly, but that's just one overly-dramatic way to put it. Basketball is indeed a young man's game. Before you start playing the violin for me as a tell this sad story about not being able to do things that I used to do, let's put it in the proper context. I am not old. Well, not that old. I've just got a body that has lots of wear and tear on it. Unfortunately, I was given the heart of a prize fighter but the body of a flamingo. Appropriately, I too am now standing on one leg. My left knee has been swollen pretty good for about a week.

A little swelling? Big deal. I can ice that. That's what I've been doing but it won't seem to go away. It feels fine once I get warm. Well, maybe fine is a bit strong. It feels good enough to run after I get warmed up. But I definitely think about it when I make a quick move and that's a problem. The bad thing is that this is probably a chain reaction brought on by several other injuries. My chronically sore lower back may or may not have contributed to the patella tendonitis pain I've had in my right knee for the past 3 or 4 weeks. Compensating for the right knee, coupled with my ever decreasing flexibility, probably caused me to put extra stress on the left knee.

I could probably keep this going and suck it up. I had a stretch in tonight's game where I had about 8 straight points, on some nifty moves that ended in bank shots of varying degrees of difficulty. As I ran back up the court, the referee commented that "the bank" was "definitely open". I heard some "ooohs" and "aaaahs" on the last one, a nifty base line move where I shot the bank over a defender with a low trajectory on the right side while floating left. I even ended the game with a two-handed dunk as time ran out. But why? I've got nothing to prove. There is no Larry O'Brien trophy waiting at the end of this old-man's-washed-up-used-to-be-and-never-was league. I'll get no endorsement money. So, you've heard it here first. Until further notice, I'm going to shut it down for the foreseeable future.

Yeah, I know that's vague. I make a living out of vague. I can say unequivocally that "foreseeable future" means at least the rest of this week, and probably even longer than that. Hopefully, the rest will do my body some good. It's tough being Fido Dido battling it out with the Incredible Hulk all the time.