Awake at an odd hour from another dream.
The dream ..... In the gym at the middle school, I once attended ..... a site where a group of us would gather each Sunday evening for I don't know how many years to play basketball. Between this place and another gym, it had to be at least twenty years for me.
There were two other guys from the old crowd.
We were bemoaning those days gone by and never to be experienced again .... though still holding on to hope. (In the dream not real life.)
We started with some jogging around the gym ..... more like sprint or line drills at quarter speed.
Why? I don't think any of us loved running unless it was in an actual game.
Eventually several other people arrived ..... like forty or fifty (mostly) strangers.
There were a couple teammates from those middle school teams, one covered in upper body tattoos.
And also, my best buddy growing up.
My ex-wife even walked in .... and in a blink of an eye, was gone again.
During those years this is where I could be found on 95% of Sunday evenings.
Year round, not just traditional basketball season.
Any Sundays that fell on Christmas Eve was no play but that was it (as I recall).
There was a core group of 10-15 guys and then maybe another 10-15 who would drop in occasionally.
Almost always enough for full court games with several in wait.
We would shoot free throws to determine teams. First five to make were one team, second five were another, any remaining sat and cycled in for the next game.
There was one guy, who when we found ourselves waiting together to get into the next game, we'd talk jazz records.
The numbers would dwindle on the hottest days of summer then jump back up under tolerable conditions.
We knew where the light switch was but not the switch for air conditioning.
Most everyone brought a basketball ..... we would choose the best one for the game.
Usually a Wilson Jet.
Several times, the best ball belonged to a guy who on occasion would get upset and do the proverbial and abrupt, 'take his ball and go home' thing.
He was the youngster among us oldsters and still had a little bit of baby in him.
He thought that he never fouled anyone ..... he found out how wrong he was when we recruited him one year to play on our city league basketball team and he ended up in constant foul trouble.
(He had a football background and playing basketball with referees was a new thing for him.)
Games would go to seven baskets but you had to win by two field goals ...... or to eleven baskets max if the two-goal difference was never reached.
When two teams of old guys are having trouble making shots, a game to seven can last a while.
Occasionally a game would get pretty feisty with actual defensive efforts being made and rough fouls committed.
Had there not been a field goal limit, or school with students arriving the next morning, some of those games might still be going on today.
But mostly it was just fun.
The camaraderie between all of us was as enjoyable as the actual games.
Days I still think about often.
With specific moments still burned into memory.
