Late Night Reminiscings

I was out on the court the other day. I can't even remember why I walked over to the sorry looking half-court with three basketballs hanging around on the side, waiting for someone to come along and put them to work. Something inside just drew me, perhaps a whisper of yesteryears and reminiscings, and this time I listened and I went.

I picked up a ball and began bouncing it down the side. It moved almost magically, lightly touching the balls of my fingers, awkwardly making contact with the palm of my hand, as muscles worked hard to bring back the memory of what to do next. I made a quick turn and the ball followed, then in a flash I rolled it into my hand, drew my arm back, and my feet left the ground as simultaneously the ball left my fingers, gliding off the tips and flying through the air until it made contact with the rim, swished around a couple of loops, and then slipped smoothly through the net. I'd made a basket.