Bouncing Back (and a Reborn Longing)

I am one sore puppy today. My back, my knees, my hammies, everything is sore. I am happy to report that it was completely worth it.

Had our first hoops game of the new season last night at 10pm - and yes, playing a game that starts at 10pm stinks on many levels. My squad was short-handed, and an unnamed teammate fell asleep at 9:30, leaving us with 4 regulars and an emergency sub. We were playing a very good young team, and things looked bleak when my first two shots were unceremoniously, yet ferociously, blocked. To make matters worse, the star of the other team was none other than our arch-rival, El Douchebag, formerly of the squad that knocked us out of the playoffs last season. A funny thing happened on the way to the blow-out. We actually played very well. We fell behind a handful of times from anywhere between 8 and 12 points, and clawed back into the game every time. We didn't have enough juice to finish the job though. In fact, the other team had no less than 7 four-on-one and three-on-none dashes to the basket. Damn them and their young legs. However, I had my best game in ages. Scorekeeper said I had either 23 or 25 points - my best output in at least 2+ seasons. I rebounded fairly decently and made some nice passes for baskets. We ended up losing by 10 (give or take a point), but we definitely stamped ourselves as a team to contend with this season. Not bad for three older big guys, a point guard with a turned ankle and an emergency sub who had never played an organized game in his life. As Hugh Douglas used to say "confidence levels are high".

Stayed in the parking lot after the game jibber-jabbering, and the conversation turned from hoops to hockey. A conversation from a recent game at the old hockey rink that involved me made me realize for the first time how much I truly missed playing. It felt good to hear ex-teammates express (even second or third-hand) that they missed having me around. I was never a great player, even though I played non-stop for the better part of 9 years or so. In the lower-levels I was better-than-average, the middle levels I was okay, and in the upper-levels I had to work very hard to not be a liability to some of my teams. I brought other things to the table though, and I tended to have my moments where I was able to shine some. I was almost always a captain, and I was a pretty good leader in that capacity. One thing I always prided myself on was that I, and my teams, always looked out for one another. Guys on my teams always knew that if someone took a shot at them, I was going to be there to back them up. And, though I had to clean up my act as I took on a larger role at the facility over the years, my guys still knew that I had their backs, and my opponents knew that I would protect my teammates. The (paraphrased) "I wish Vince were still here playing with us" that was relayed to me was touching. Hearing the stories about playoff games and unnecessarily physical and dangerous acts by guys I would be playing against now made me pine for playing again. But alas, the stunt I pulled at the last job means that I might never play up there again. I was awash in regret for a short time last night, but it almost completely drained from me when I popped my head in The Man Zachary's room to check on him when I got home. I do miss playing, a lot. But I wonder how eager I would be to get into a cross-checking match with someone with the little guy waiting at home for me. Bah. I'd still be in the middle of all of it, who am I kidding?

Had a very interesting week since my last entry. The baby seemed to bounce back from his illnesses somewhat after he got onto his meds, so we decided to hit the beach for the weekend. The Man Zachary is a beach-lovin' fool. I have been checking the mail daily since coming home waiting for a fine from the Ocean City beach authorities for excess contribution to beach erosion. The Man Zachary likes to eat sand. Lots of sand. He would take a handful of sand, put it in his mouth, make raspberries to spit most of it out, grab another handful - and repeat. I was told to stop being the overprotective Dad and that this was normal. I don't know. He also tried to cruise into the ocean for his first swim. We had him on the ground in the wet sand and he crawled as fast as I have ever seen him straight towards the surf. It was awesome! Only a last-second save kept him from his first wave-in-the-face wipeout. We took zachary for his first-ever bike ride, and he seemed to enjoy it. Zachary loved the boardwalk, and at one point tried to wave to each and every passer-by (speaking of which, when did 13 and 14 year-olds start dressing like street-walkers? And why wasn't this the case when I was 14 and 15?). Sociable kid, my son.

It would have been a near-perfect weekend if not for my wife's desire to get home to get some work done on Monday. So, we left O.C. at 9:40pm on Sunday night expecting to fly home. Ooops. We hit the bumper-to-bumper crawl a quarter-mile into the Garden State Parkway. Took over 3 hours to get home. I was not a happy camper. Captain Jack Cranky was more like it.

[Currently Listening: African Head Charge - "The More We Are Together"]