Hello Again My Old Friend

Hello Again My Old Friend

John Paul Derryberry

The first time I ever felt a deep connection to anything was on a basketball court. It was in the now-demolished middle school gym in Orwell, Ohio. As we ran through lay-up drills on a Saturday morning, I attempted to learn how to shoot a left-handed lay-up. My left hand was so useless that day that I questioned why it was even attached to my body.  I stayed long after all the other kids left the gym that morning.  Correctly sinking a left-handed lay-up became an obsession. Before my dad and the coach called quits on my stubborn session, I did it! I jumped off the correct foot and used my left hand to lay the ball in.

I jumped for joy, and the first real, reliable friend I would know intimately was born.  No one would have described the fastest kid, the highest jumper, or most-fit athlete and me in the same sentence.  Destiny did not gift me with the natural abilities to unite basketball and me in harmony. I always struggled, first with my left land, then with how to compete with people more athletic than me.  Practice after practice, game after game throughout my youth, this so-called friend displayed for the world my limitations as a human.  

Some friend- you might be thinking- but in reality, it was the best gift ever to fall in love with a sport I had no chance at mastering. Basketball always taught me to never back down from a superior opponent.  It revealed to me that I looked for advantages no one else saw. It showed me I could process information faster than most. Basketball laid down the path for me always to lean hard into my best traits. In essence, it taught me to be comfortable being me, because I had no chance to be the athletic guys.

I took my friend with me everywhere in the first 21 years of my life.  Most of us do take that first love as far as we can, whether its' sports, art, music, or something else. We had something that created a spark within us, and we connected deeply with it, only to have life move us away from it. Life changed for me, and we stayed in touch, met for intramurals after my college career ended. There were some adult rec leagues, but I've been without my first friend for five years, until this past Tuesday. A group of guys plays on Tuesday night, nothing serious, but I was invited. 

So I laced up the sneakers and took my oldest friend for a conversation. Basketball again reminded me of my limitations, my non-athletic body is still nonathletic. My vertical at this point is measured in the negative.  My defensive rotations are slower and no way I'm ever taking a charge that risks a hospital visit.  But my old friend and I enjoyed our time together again. I was reminded why this was my first love. Despite my limitations with it, the connection to willing your body to do something you are not supposed to be able to do gives me a rush. 

And now the basketball carries so many memories from life:  from my dad, my brother, college games, game-winning shots, and laughing with friends, to the crushing defeats, and the realization I have limitations. The funny thing is that what's great friends do for us; they let us know we are capable of greatness, but that we have limitations.  I can still do some nifty left land lay-ups when I need to, it felt good to be 8 again. Now to ice my ankles, knees, and limp around for a couple of days. My friend and I have a date for next Tuesday to catch up again. I hope you find your first love and get reacquainted because it's the best.