I can’t write big pieces these days so I’m just doing short journal things but sometimes they get too long Cold Basketball Yesterday, in the 27 degree air of New London, CT, I found some time to go out to a local public court, Toby May Park, and play basketball. The wind was blowing hard. When I put up a shot from more than a dozen feet or so, I could see the arc of the ball curve sideways in mid-flight. Still, it wasn’t hard to make baskets if I drove or shot from close up. Even under calm conditions, I enjoy that part of the game more - driving, pivoting, releasing shots with different hands from different angles. My solo basketball practice usually involves going to a spot on the court, facing a certain direction, thinking about different ways I could score if I were guarded, and trying to execute five or six of them. Turnaround jumper, spin left into a right-hand running hook, spin right and drive for right-hand reverse layup, spin right and drive for left-hand standard layup, spin left into a left-hand floater, half-turn into a bank shot. It’s immensely satisfying, but I don’t know what I’m doing, except these are things that I’ve seen players do, and they make sense to my body. If I do them often enough in practice, I may find myself instinctively doing them in games, where they surprise other players, because people who look like me tend to be more pure shooters. But I never could sit back like that. I want to drive, attack, engage. It works well in the cold, too. The kind of shots I like to shoot, you can make in heavy gusts of wind. The quick movements get your blood pumping. I stayed out for 45 minutes, forgetting it was cold for the last half hour.
Journal notes - Thursday Jan 27 - basketball
Journal notes - Thursday Jan 27 - basketball
Journal notes - Thursday Jan 27 - basketball
I can’t write big pieces these days so I’m just doing short journal things but sometimes they get too long Cold Basketball Yesterday, in the 27 degree air of New London, CT, I found some time to go out to a local public court, Toby May Park, and play basketball. The wind was blowing hard. When I put up a shot from more than a dozen feet or so, I could see the arc of the ball curve sideways in mid-flight. Still, it wasn’t hard to make baskets if I drove or shot from close up. Even under calm conditions, I enjoy that part of the game more - driving, pivoting, releasing shots with different hands from different angles. My solo basketball practice usually involves going to a spot on the court, facing a certain direction, thinking about different ways I could score if I were guarded, and trying to execute five or six of them. Turnaround jumper, spin left into a right-hand running hook, spin right and drive for right-hand reverse layup, spin right and drive for left-hand standard layup, spin left into a left-hand floater, half-turn into a bank shot. It’s immensely satisfying, but I don’t know what I’m doing, except these are things that I’ve seen players do, and they make sense to my body. If I do them often enough in practice, I may find myself instinctively doing them in games, where they surprise other players, because people who look like me tend to be more pure shooters. But I never could sit back like that. I want to drive, attack, engage. It works well in the cold, too. The kind of shots I like to shoot, you can make in heavy gusts of wind. The quick movements get your blood pumping. I stayed out for 45 minutes, forgetting it was cold for the last half hour.