Fast break dreaming

My connection to basketball now is almost entirely vicarious; I like to write about college basketball for money. And, if nobody pays me, I write about it, anyway.

These days, I don’t watch nearly as many games on television as I used to. But last Saturday, being in the crowd that saw the VCU Rams steal a game from their archrival, the Richmond Spiders, was a gas.

Although the game had been tough on my body, at 46 I was still a basketball junkie, who had to play twice a week. My girlfriend in those days used to say I was much easier to deal with after I’d had my dose of hoops.

Then I quit. One day, after playing for 10 years without medical insurance, and living off of freelance work, I got too scared of getting hurt. Couldn't afford to be on crutches, again.

At first, I missed playing basketball terribly. Every now and then, I still dream about running on a fast break. When I woke up this morning there was a trace of one of those dreams lingering -- the flow, the angles, the improvisational weave.