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I played a lot
of sports.
I
played football, baseball, basketball, softball and volleyball.
I
enjoyed dodge ball.
I was somewhat
proficient at all of them.
I
was even elected to a Hall of Fame. My election was probably based more
upon duration than accomplishment.
I
played for many years.
I had a closet overflowing with uniforms of various colors and sponsors.
I had a lot of success because I was fortunate to have played with some
great players on some great teams.
I played until
age and an array of various injuries caused me to retire.
I
had fun until it hurt. I played well into my dotage.
Seeing my old teammates and friends retire one-by-one from athletic
competition, was a contributing factor in my hanging up my sporting
shoes.
I had made an odd discovery in my life. While I loved playing sports, I
disliked watching them on TV.
I coached a bit, umpired some, and contented myself by getting my sports
fix watching family members play in junior high and high school. I
enjoyed watching the kids play.
Once a summer,
I am coaxed out of retirement to play a couple of games of fast pitch
softball.
I
spend the rest of the year recovering.
A friend called
to invite me to play a game of basketball for old time??™s sake on a
Sunday afternoon.
Completely ignoring common sense, I agreed.
We played a
team of young whippersnappers.
We were a team of whippersnapped.
I was afraid
that I might have forgotten how to play the game.
I
shouldn??™t have worried. My mind, which sometimes fails me by forgetting
small things like where I left the car keys, whether I had brushed my
teeth, or my wife??™s name, became incredibly sharp.
I guess basketball is like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never
forget.
My mind knew right where I should be situated when defending a
pick-and-roll. It knew right where I should station myself to pick off
a weak side rebound. It knew right where I should be on defense in order
to clog up a passing lane and maybe intercept a pass. It knew exactly
the spot I should hit on the backboard in order to sink a shot.
Yes, my mind
was as sharp as the proverbial tack.
The problem was that my body was unable to do what my mind was telling
it to do.
My body became very willing to stop and ask for directions.
My knees still bent when I shot free throws. The problem was that they
creaked while doing so.
I quickly
discovered that I hadn??™t lost a step. I had lost at least 3 or 4 of
them.
I
wasn??™t a step slow. I was a time zone slow.
I came home
after the basketball fiasco, feeling old.
Thoughts of times that once were, but would never be again, filled my
brain.
I was already stiff and sore. I knew that I??™d be even more stiff and
sore by the next day, but it was my psyche that hurt the most.
It was then that I saw the robin outside my office window.
I watched the robin with an injured leg endeavor to take a bath. The
bird attempted to step into the birdbath in my yard. It looked as
though the robin was trying to stick a toe in the water to sample the
temperature. I understood that. I do the same before entering any
water.
The robin kept slipping into the water as it was impossible for it to
stand properly with one leg hanging limply. Finally, the robin just
jumped into the water and took a vigorous bath. It splashed and
splashed. If a robin could smile, that robin would have been smiling.
We all hurt sometimes. We occasionally have difficulty doing what we
once could. We find it hard to do everything that we want to do. But
we can still make a splash.
The next day, I received calls from two schools asking me to teach
classes on birding. I was asked to teach a community ed. class on
creative writing. A college called requesting my presence to give a
motivational talk to its student body. A birding festival in another
state asked me to be a keynote speaker at a banquet.
These were all opportunities to make a difference.
I??™ll never be able to play basketball with anything nearing the skill
level that I once played, but I will be able to do the things I still
can do.
We are not always given the things we want. We are given the things we
need.
Inspired by the
robin, I called the Salvation Army and signed up for 8 hours of ringing
the bells.
Thanks to that robin, I may end up with bell ringer??™s elbow, but I??™m
going to make a splash.
?©Al Batt 2004
71622 325 St.
Hartland, MN 56042
SnoEowl @ aol.com
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