Older Man Basketball

“Well my Apple Watch thinks I’m going for a brisk walk,” which is ordinarily a nice alert to get unless you’re my buddy Steve who had actually just finished playing two basketball games in our old man Sunday hoops. Perhaps he was just being cautious. After all, there’s not a Sunday morning game that goes by where someone doesn’t have to sit out because pre-game high-knees lead to a calf pull. At least we have an orthopedic surgeon in the game. But Doc Mike can be stingy - “I’m not giving Paul another cortisone shot in the timeout, he’ll be fine,” doc said. These games feature a lot of bald, bulky and banged up middle age guys—at least four wear knee braces, two have goggles, one has a kind of arm band that looks more like a Downey pillow, at least six have compression socks to keep their calves from tightening, and there’s one guy who has athletic tape over pretty much every possible part of his skin. Not all the players fit the stereotype of an old man basketball player, but there are patterns that emerge: there’s the “I’m sorry guy” who invariably takes 17 footers that never hit rim, or the “My bad guy” whose entry passes hit the guy in the groin rather than the hands. There’s “Full court guy” who takes every board and screams up the court at warp speed, always veering right near the hoop before throwing up a brick. For every turnover there’s a no-look give and go and, if you’re watching closely, an occasional 30 foot Steph Curry 3 and LeBron alley oop - okay, that’s a stretch. But I got to say that an “Old Man Basketball” Network might not be a totally horrible idea. It’s March Madness on muscle relaxants. Think of a reality TV comedy version of Mad Men and White Shadow or Along Came Polly’s scene with the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman, only indoors. Could call it Hoops & Hopalongs or As The World Turnsover.  Episodes could have a bit of Glengarry Glennross and Gordon Gekko Wall Street feel to them in between games as the players trade proposals. There would be no need for a script or actual actors because, let’s be honest, these guys can play the part of a later middle age not-quite-as-good-as-we-used-to-be basketball player as well as any actor could. They could debate healthcare reform or argue over whose injuries are worse during the next dead ball. The reality, of course, is that these guys aren’t getting up on Sundays to debate anything. They already know who they are by now. We already know. The game is really just a way to temper the zillions of things going on in our head and in our life, the college payments, project deadlines, anxious teens, nana’s memory loss, and that unpainted deck. That’s why, black eye, swollen face and hamstring pull and all, I will be back next Sunday. When the email comes over asking ‘who’s in?,’ there’s really only one answer I can give.

Editor’s note: This column has been updated from a prior version