So with baby powder covered hands I would practice fadeaway after fadeaway. I was Mike Jordan on my backyard court. Playing against my younger brother, who was born six years after me, certainly helped that belief. I was much bigger than him and outweighed him by quite a bit. The difference between a 15 year old and a 9 year old is pretty substantial. As my brother grew older, and stronger, he would more than get his revenge, but at the time, I was the man…like MJ!
So I was sitting on the long pine bench of the Junior Varsity team. I don’t remember the team we were playing, but I remember the moment the coach called my name. “Ken,” he would grumble out in his raspy, northern accent, “Go in for so and so.”
In those days the Clermont High School Varsity team was really good. Many believed they had a good shot that year for state playoffs. So that meant as the JV games got into the later part of the third quarter and into the fourth, the place would be packed! Standing room only most nights.
“Ken, go in for so and so,” the coach yelled out. The game was basically over. Just a few minutes in the fourth remained. The truth is, I couldn’t mess anything up and neither could the rest of the subs. So I checked in to my first ever high school basketball game.
The jerseys were about as close to skin tight as possible. White with gold numbers outlined in dark green. We were the Highlanders.
The shorts were pre-Jordan short shorts. It was embarrassing actually. We all would try to tug at them during the game to keep them down as far as possible and still they wouldn’t go lower than half way down our thighs. I mean we weren’t talking the 1950s, this was the 90s! Long shorts were in, but the school was old and so were the uniforms.
Regardless, I knelt by the scorekeeper and waited for the horn. I went in, heart thumping, so nervous. Seconds ran off the clock faster than Usain Bolt. All I remember is running back and forth on the court, lungs burning, fatigued even though I was in great shape. The boost in adrenaline had drained my frail frame.
With just over a minute to go in the game an errant offensive rebound came off to the right baseline. It somehow came right to me, as I was surely out of place had there been a need to get back on defense. Then time slowed down.
I thought in my head about all those fadeaways I had taken with the assistance of Johnson and Johnson. It was time to unleash some Jordan on this team, with everyone watching!
So I faked one way and turned around the other and let the ball go. I couldn’t compose myself to go into full Jordan mode. The lean back, the head fake the shoulder shrug. I did the best I could do, thinking MJ the whole way.
What is crazy is that the basket actually went in. I galloped down court, now full of energy. My first two points were scored in what I thought was Jordan fashion. Of course the game had been decided long ago, but that didn’t matter to me. I was beyond happy!
In my mind’s heart, I really believed this was going to be a regular occurrence. Me checking in, draining baskets and making a difference. The rest of the season went quite different, but I enjoyed the journey.
I guess you always remember your first shot.
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