Tonight my church ball team played in the San Diego LDS regional basketball tournament; we were playing in what would be the Elite Eight, but in this case the descriptor is questionable. We actually do have a good team, and so far we've been cruising through the playoffs.
Tonight's game was different. We played a team from Carlsbad that had some unsuspecting talent. Think of your average Mormon white guy: 5 foot 10, slightly pale, slightly bald, slightly overweight, and slightly realizing he's not in his prime anymore. These guys were in their prime though, or at least their outside game was. They must have made 70% of their threes, and they shot about 400 of them. They ended up beating us 92-77, which is a lot for a church game, especially considering we only play four 8-minute quarters. Our team played good, but they played better. They had real uniforms (complete with name and number), a real coach (complete with generic college coaching polo--as if), and a full-court press that took us out of our rhythm.
But something quietly monumental happened to me tonight: I got schooled by guys I used to be able to hang with. I got consistently beat off the dribble, turned the ball over three times against the press, and didn't score until two seconds left in the first half. It was humbling. In my church ball career, I've always been on the other side of the ball--breaking off instead of getting broke off. I wasn't sure then, nor am I now of how I should handle this. I keep asking myself if I'm past my prime, if it was my technique or just their talent, if I can I overcome this or is it all down hill from here?
After giving it too little thought, I've come to the following premature conclusion: I wish we would have won the game, but I'm glad I got schooled. You need games like this every once in a while to remind you not that you're human, but that you're fat and old. Sure, it's a little depressing to realize that one is aged and "girthy", but it definitely makes you a better player in the long run. Right now I'm sitting here blitzkrieging my game, looking for ways to prevent nights like this in the future, hoping I'll be better for it.
Now if you'll excuse me, Murder She Wrote is about to start, and I haven't even warmed up my milk yet.
