Not a Michael Jordan-like event, but after almost 50 years of playing pickup basketball, I think I’ve had it.
I was never much good–at my best, maybe around college, I was a scrappy hustler, good passer, inconsistent but sometimes decent outside shooter, and tenacious defender (never had much of a move to the hoop), and my game has deteriorated since I turned 40 over a decade ago, so it’s no great loss. But my deteriorating game has only a little to do with my decision to hang up my basketball sneakers.
The pickup game I’m currently playing in is just too contentious for me. It’s a way for me to get some aerobic exercise (I hate treadmills, and it’s just too cold here to run on the beach past November) but the main exercise I get in this game is arguing calls. Yesterday’s game was an extreme example of the range of styles which are impossible to reconcile. Basically, one guy who was guarding me called a foul every time a play didn’t go his way–any incidental contact, and he’d go “I got it” and curse me out for brushing against him, putting a hand on his back in the post, even doing a fairly good pick and roll, while one of his teammates who was guarding me on switches would literally shove me around every time he guarded me. I was getting it both ways, and I can’t blame either guy, but there are two styles of play in a non-refereed game, and if you don’t agree on which style you want–a “no blood, no foul” policy" or an “NBA-last two minutes” policy, you’re doomed to spending the whole game arguing fouls, which makes the exercise extremely disagreeable.
Related is the whole trash-talking style of the kids (I play mostly with college kids, plus some staff and faculty like me), who take it for granted that yelling, cursing, complaining, and just being unpleasant on the court is normal, while the older folks keep this to minimum, and generally prefer to say “Good shot” after an opponent makes a three-pointer rather than “You a lucky motherfucker.” But even if they showed better manners, I’d still be annoyed at all the heated discussions of fouling, and the wide range of standards being applied. I probably should get out before I get hurt (I’ve been lucky the last few years, though this week I had a few minor hurts, a jammed finger and a crushed big toe, plus a strained hamstring and a cut on my arm from someone’s fingernail) but it’s more the psychological strain of all this arguing that’s making me think about not playing basketball any more.
I guess I’m glad to have had a good long run.