finally, i got around to pumping air into my old spalding basketball so i could shoot some hoops, something that next to sleep and thinking about darby vanbuskirk occupied much of my non-informative years of development.
i couldn't play the game enough, even though i was only 5'1", weighed slightly more than the ball, and had a verical leap measured in inches (single digits and divisible by 5 at that).
pistol pete maravich was my guy.
even wore the floppy socks (the truth is, with my skinny calves, all my socks were floppy).
ah yes, a little b-ball.
i immediately dribbled right to the corner and launched a ten foot jump shot (jump being the inoperative word) ala dollar bill bradley.
air ball, short by a solid two feet.
i ran to retrieve the errant ball and spun left to knock it down off the glass.
i hit the underside of the backboard instead.
the ball dropped straight down bouncing off the base of the backboard, sailing clean over my head, down the driveway, and out to the street, which sits atop a one mile hill.
it then disappeared in fast order, heading to the next zip code with ill-humor.
all in all though, a quality shoot around.
a little rust but nothing a little more practice wouldn't fix licketty split.
yup, i'll put my mind to finding that ball in a year or so and i'll all over this again.