My Comeback to High School Basketball, Part One: The Practice

I received a chest pass on the wing and turned to look at my options.

Seeing none of my teammates open, I managed to pull off a good enough pump fake to bait my defender, leaving me wide open with a straight path to the basket.

As I drove to the hole for an easy two points, I suddenly felt the floor evaporate beneath me as I attempted to plant my foot to jump.

Initially, I thought that I had taken a good leap, but then I realized that I wasn’t advancing toward the basket—I was falling away from it.

Not until my painful face plant on the hardwood did I realize that I had slipped and fallen on one of the most basic plays in the game of basketball.

"Man," I thought. "It's been a while since I've done this."

A while? Try three years. Three very long years.

Last week, my high school hosted its annual student-faculty basketball game, an event that I was not keen on participating in, considering the risks involved.

The last thing I needed was to post up on my English teacher and accidentally knock her down, sending both my grade and a possible college recommendation letter into jeopardy.

Additionally, the last time I had played an organized basketball game was in the eighth grade, ending my playing career after eight seasons (1999-2006).

However, as fate would have it, I signed up to play on a whim, completely unaware of what I was getting myself into.

For starters, I was extremely out of shape, something that developed from a ton of daily homework and an extreme loathing of the family treadmill. So to say that the team practice before the game left me painfully fatigued may be a bit of an understatement.

Secondly, my basketball skills were a little rusty as they had been neglected during my absence from basketball.

While most people would have recognized that the possibility of looking stupid was nearly inevitable, I, unfortunately, failed to heed the obvious signs.

I showed up at practice with my vintage "T-Mac 3" Adidas basketball shoes, ready to get the ball rolling.

We started with a lay-up drill, which proved to be quite easy for a former basketball player like myself as I made both of my attempts.

However, that would prove to be the last success for me for the duration of practice.

After finishing our lay-ups, we moved on to a jump-shot drill—setting the stage for my first dose of complete humiliation.

When my turn came, I caught the pass from the last shooter’s rebound, set my feet, and launched the rock towards the hoop.

After letting go, something did not feel right as I watched the ball soar towards the basket.

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