A happy moment
A couple days ago I finally received my new sports goggles, and today was the day: I finally went and played a bit of basketball. That's when I discovered the truth so conveniently ignored and suppressed:
I'm getting older.
I wasn't even planning to do much, honestly. Just a 45 minute shooting practice, to get the old muscles moving again. The last few years have seen me fall into a pretty sedentary lifestyle, and while I haven't gained much weight, I know I'm out of shape. I just hadn't realized how badly.
Anyway, I got into the 24-hour fitness, and made another momentous discovery: it really helps your shot if you can see the basket.
No, really.
See, I've been using the same sports goggles since I was about 18 years old. Thing is, my prescription has changed some since then. Not by much, about 1 1/2 diopters in total, but still. Since that's a relatively small change for someone with a prescription of 10 1/2 to an eye, I discounted the effect.
Today I discovered that this approach was, well, short-sighted.
You see, in my younger days I used to be a pretty darn consistent shooter. Midrange shots I'd sink all day long, covered or not, double-teamed or not, falling, sidestepping or back jumping. I could drill 3-pointers with surprising regularity. Then, in the last few years, on the rare occasions that I did play, I'd have a terrible time hitting my midrange shots, let alone long-distance ones. I always put it down to simply being out of shape; you know, my body not doing things the right way. But my technique had never deteriorated.
Well, today I discovered that having appropriate prescription goggles makes all the difference. All those marginal shots that I used to make with a high percentage back then, and which I stopped making later, were falling in again with the same ol' regularity.
That was kinda cool.
But that's not the main point of today. As I was practicing, a couple of guys asked me if I wanted to join them for a game of "21". Now, I'd watched them a bit myself; they were in far better shape than me, were better shooters, stronger and more agile. I told them as much, and that I would probably be kinda annoying for them to deal with. They said not to worry about it, they looked at my practice and I'd do OK.
I acquiesced. Then I found out their version of "21" was based on shots from the 3 point line. I am nowhere near being back to a level where I could make those at all, let alone with any consistency. Oh well. At least I stated in advance I was going to embarrass myself. They had no cause to complain.
In fact, they had all the advantages, except one, and it's been the "secret sauce" that has always carried me even in places where I was hopelessly out of contention. I'm efficient. I may not do as much as everybody else much of the time in terms of running around, but give me the ball and I'll make something out of it, points or an assist. In defense I'd be terribly anemic but still tend to be in someone's face at the critical moment. And so on and so forth.
And so it went. They first guy drilled his first three shots, then missed one, and I grabbed the rebound. Worked my way to scoring from the field. Then did the same on the next two plays. Then they got the ball again and started scoring, mostly playing against each other because, well, I was outmatched and outclassed. In fact, throughout the whole match I saw maybe 20% of the balls, and each of them 40%. Heck, at some point I literally had to stop and sit on the sideline for a few balls because I couldn't breath anymore.
But when I did get the ball, I usually made my points. Efficiency. Then I'd go to the 3-point line and miss, of course, but I'd still make those field shots. And then I made another one, and they both came and high-fived me. Apparently I won. I had no idea. I was simply trying to survive the ordeal, make my shots, catch a breath.
I told them it was a victory for opportunism, not skill, and they nodded. I actually felt bad, because I had no right to win. But inside I was secretly overjoyed. It was a delightfully unimportant victory for an aging man.
I'm getting older.
I wasn't even planning to do much, honestly. Just a 45 minute shooting practice, to get the old muscles moving again. The last few years have seen me fall into a pretty sedentary lifestyle, and while I haven't gained much weight, I know I'm out of shape. I just hadn't realized how badly.
Anyway, I got into the 24-hour fitness, and made another momentous discovery: it really helps your shot if you can see the basket.
No, really.
See, I've been using the same sports goggles since I was about 18 years old. Thing is, my prescription has changed some since then. Not by much, about 1 1/2 diopters in total, but still. Since that's a relatively small change for someone with a prescription of 10 1/2 to an eye, I discounted the effect.
Today I discovered that this approach was, well, short-sighted.
You see, in my younger days I used to be a pretty darn consistent shooter. Midrange shots I'd sink all day long, covered or not, double-teamed or not, falling, sidestepping or back jumping. I could drill 3-pointers with surprising regularity. Then, in the last few years, on the rare occasions that I did play, I'd have a terrible time hitting my midrange shots, let alone long-distance ones. I always put it down to simply being out of shape; you know, my body not doing things the right way. But my technique had never deteriorated.
Well, today I discovered that having appropriate prescription goggles makes all the difference. All those marginal shots that I used to make with a high percentage back then, and which I stopped making later, were falling in again with the same ol' regularity.
That was kinda cool.
But that's not the main point of today. As I was practicing, a couple of guys asked me if I wanted to join them for a game of "21". Now, I'd watched them a bit myself; they were in far better shape than me, were better shooters, stronger and more agile. I told them as much, and that I would probably be kinda annoying for them to deal with. They said not to worry about it, they looked at my practice and I'd do OK.
I acquiesced. Then I found out their version of "21" was based on shots from the 3 point line. I am nowhere near being back to a level where I could make those at all, let alone with any consistency. Oh well. At least I stated in advance I was going to embarrass myself. They had no cause to complain.
In fact, they had all the advantages, except one, and it's been the "secret sauce" that has always carried me even in places where I was hopelessly out of contention. I'm efficient. I may not do as much as everybody else much of the time in terms of running around, but give me the ball and I'll make something out of it, points or an assist. In defense I'd be terribly anemic but still tend to be in someone's face at the critical moment. And so on and so forth.
And so it went. They first guy drilled his first three shots, then missed one, and I grabbed the rebound. Worked my way to scoring from the field. Then did the same on the next two plays. Then they got the ball again and started scoring, mostly playing against each other because, well, I was outmatched and outclassed. In fact, throughout the whole match I saw maybe 20% of the balls, and each of them 40%. Heck, at some point I literally had to stop and sit on the sideline for a few balls because I couldn't breath anymore.
But when I did get the ball, I usually made my points. Efficiency. Then I'd go to the 3-point line and miss, of course, but I'd still make those field shots. And then I made another one, and they both came and high-fived me. Apparently I won. I had no idea. I was simply trying to survive the ordeal, make my shots, catch a breath.
I told them it was a victory for opportunism, not skill, and they nodded. I actually felt bad, because I had no right to win. But inside I was secretly overjoyed. It was a delightfully unimportant victory for an aging man.
posted by Blinkered at 8:30 PM
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