Basketball

I am working out at the Sylvester Powell community center every day. I started with swimming and yoga, then the yoga instructor quit - or I scared her off - then my lungs started giving up on me in the pool, which seems like a bad place to tempt fate, so I am left with walking and remedial self-actualized yoga for exercise.

I prefer the walking track to tread mills, I guess I like going somewhere, even if it is a rather goldfish-like view. "Hey, that again!" The walking track is on the second floor and with each lap you pass over the basketball courts on the floor below through out the building. Try as I might, I can't help watching the basketball players below. They all suck, but the train wreck of their talent is worth watching. And from my vantage point their play is even worse because they are basically throwing the ball UP to me. Maybe it's just me, but it can't be that hard to toss that ball into the hoop.

Today, as I entered mile two, a middle-aged man and three small boys took the court to play a little three-on-one. Traditionally this is a good chance for an adult to teach the youth of tomorrow a new sport, showcase their humility and to pass on quality values to the next generation. Instead, this man was schooling these poor little kids like only a six-foot, over-weight, slightly balding man with dreams of glory bouncing around in his head could. The three Hobbits without an ounce of coordination between them kept charging down the court hoping to put up a Hail Mary that could somehow arc over their giant opponent and put them back in the game. But with every heave of their tiny arms, their shot would be violently rejected by the King of Rogaine.

I'm not sure of the final score but I think the Mercy rule could have applied. I'm not even sure if the trio of midgets ever scored.

I kept walking.

Who should I root for? King Rogaine and his domination over the youth movement; or those poor kids whose efforts were noble but probably misguided?