Seeking Positive Answers: The fun of shootin’ hoops for the first time in my 40s . . . and setting my sights higher
Playing basketball wasn’t something I ever thought would be a part of my life. I’ve always loved the sport. I spent many hours of my childhood watching my brothers play on school teams or in the driveway. There was a time when missing a Sixers game on television simply wasn’t an option in my mind. When I was a teenager, my dad even split season tickets with a bunch of guys for the two of us to go to about seven games a season for a few years. Rob shooting on the hoop at 6.5 feet. I imagine I played on a nerf basketball net longer than anyone. Shooting on my knees in our basement with a nerf ball or a basketball small enough that I could grip it in my right hand brought hours of enjoyment through the years. But I could never really play the game. Not with a real ball, on a real court, and certainly not on a 10-foot regulation hoop. On the rare occasion that I actually got to hold a real basketball in my hands, I’d suddenly feel like a weakling. I might be able to dribble it a few times