WILY: I Can't Jump Any More

Whether I every could is debatable.

There was that one time I dunked at that church during a pickup game on a hoop that was probably less than regulation, but not obviously so.

Stretching the term to the full limit of its definition, I still play pickup basketball.  I'm on the court, I touch the ball, I move (sometimes), and I sweat.

But, I don't jump.

What age and Dunkin Donuts started has been finished by an irrational fear of tearing an Achilles tendon.

During a game not too long ago, I made a rare cut to the basket, took a bounce pass in stride, and jumped well outside of the key purely on muscle memory.  Twenty years ago, I would have glided to a graceful finish, and probably slapped the glass for show.

Not that morning.  After a very short time in the air, I realized I was going to land well short of anywhere near the basket and my Dr. J inspired layup turned into an awkward banked runner.  I made it, but also fell down to add injury to insult.

Know your game; your strengths and, more importantly, your weaknesses.  You're not going to be an expert for every subject matter or the master of every domain.  Build a complementary project team and stay out of their way while they do what they do best.  The basket is still worth two points if you pass and they score.

These days I'm probably standing at the three-point line waiting for a pass or maybe using my size in the post if I have a mismatch.  

I can make my shot when it's open, but I rarely cut to the basket.  I leave that area clear for the kids who can still fly.