Sorry... this isn't the feel-good post of the year

When did I get so old?

I know, I know... everybody feels that way on their birthday, right?  Well, my problem is that I feel it on days that aren't my birthday.  And almost without exception, on the days after basketball.

And I'm not old, really.  But I feel old.  And I think that's much worse.  It's nice to see someone that is old acting and feeling young.  I'm the pitiful opposite though.  My knees have always been bad, but ever since I did in both my ankles, they've been really bad.  Still though, nothing new.  Sore knees.  But in the last year or so I've gotten a bad hip.  A bad hip... at 28.  Yup, I feel old.

And as much as I've gone downhill physically, it's the effect that it's had on my psyche that gets to me more than anything.  You see, I've always heard that an athlete's prime is 27.  My problem is that 27 was one of the worst years for me from an athletic standpoint, so not only did I squander my athletic peak, but in theory it's all going to be even more downhill from here.

I guess my litmus test has always been dunking.  And, I know, dunking isn't the end-all-be-all of basketball.  But if you asked me to remember my 20th birthday, I don't think I could tell you a single detail about that evening - and not just because of the drinking.  But, if you asked me to tell you about the best dunk I ever had, I would instantly remember being on the U of A outdoor courts, heading towards the hoop with only one lone defender foolishly standing in the way.  I would remember it as if it just happened.  My mind would be instantaneously transported to that exact moment in time.  So as much as the ability to dunk doesn't matter, it still embodies everything good or bad in terms of how I'm feeling these days.

So, a little history.  Coming from a small school, being a 6'0" tall kid that could dunk a volleyball in grade 9 got me noticed.  When you're a skinny kid in junior high school, having the best players on the high school team knowing who you were felt good.

I started getting real balls to go down in grade 10, and by grade 11 I was able to do more than just basic finger tip dunks.  I could get 2 handed dunks pretty consistently, and even the occasional reverse dunk.  Sure, I was never going to win a dunk contest, but it was something kind of unique to me, being the only guy on our team that could, for all three years of high school.

(Circa 2002)

The problem is, as much as I liked being able to dunk, at the time I didn't want that to be all I was known for.  I wanted that to just be a small faucet of an overall complete game.  And as such, I kind of grew to resent dunking.  Or at least, I didn't embrace it as much as I could have.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved dunking - I think everyone does.  But I don't think I appreciated it as much as I could have.  Maybe because I figured I'd always be able to.

And now that I can't...

I guess I just don't know if I have anything to be proud of anymore.  And it bothers me.  Back in the day I could always say 'well, at least I'm a decent basketball player, and in terms of the world's population, one of only a few that can dunk.'  But now, I don't know.  There's just nothing that makes me feel special anymore.  Is that a product of age?  The realization that not a lot of people are that special?  I mean, being able to dunk doesn't mean a whole lot to many of the people that occupy this planet.  If I walked up to Ghandi and was like 'dude, I can dunk.'  He'd look at me like I was an idiot.  And then probably ask me to hand him some food.  Why? Because in the grand scheme of life, it didn't really make me that special.  And yet, every time I step on a basketball court, I can't help but wish that I still could.