I’m fast discovering that playing basketball is detrimental to my health. My favorite sport is killing me slowly. Well, killing may be an exaggeration. It’s more like it’s chipping away at me piece by piece. For the past three Sundays, I’ve gone out with my youngest son, Noah, and played basketball for a couple of hours. The first time was great – the weather was perfect and we had a great time. I couldn’t wait until the next time we got to play. Fast forward to the next Sunday and we’re hard at it. Shooting threes and driving in for lay-ups, we’re tearing up the court. And then it happens – I step back slightly to get better position to rebound and I strain my calf muscle, first time ever. Imagine getting the worst Charley Horse ever and it won’t go away. You can’t walk it off, can’t massage it away. It’s there to stay. I tried to keep playing as I hobbled for rebounds but it was useless. I was done for the day. Noah took mercy on me and said he really wanted to see the Lakers game that was getting ready to start. Thankfully my calf was noticeably better the next day and barely a memory by the end of the week. I was ready for Sunday again! Colder than I expected and windier than I wanted, we played for about an hour with no accidents. I felt good and my shot was on. So when Noah suggested that we catch up with a couple of his buddies to play two on two I was all for it. As we played I’d like to think we were fairly evenly matched, regardless of the age difference. I figured that anything I gave up like quickness I more than made up for with experience. After all, I have been playing basketball longer than these guys have been alive. I’ve always played with a mental and physical toughness that kept me going long after exhaustion would set in. So when one of the guys dropped his shoulder and tried to drive past me for a shot at the basket, I bounced him almost out of bounds. No hands, just a strong body check from me. I’m pretty sure that’s when I cracked a rib (actually I know that’s when it happened). I kept playing, too stubborn to let anyone see me hurt. Thankfully, I had to leave shortly after, sparing me the continued beating and banging. If you’ve ever cracked a rib, then you know there’s not a lot that you can do for them. It hurts when you get up, it hurts when you lie down and God help you if you have to sneeze or cough. The good news is I’ve cracked ribs before so I know what to do, how to prepare for a sneeze or to cough. I should be all better . . . in about 4 weeks. Maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll snow this Sunday.
Sam Murray
Award-winning Graphic Designer and Writer Archives
February 2015
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