Night Hoop

When we completed dinner, dad and I would take the half mile walk to the school yard, often in near freezing temperatures. Basketball in hand, pop only let me dribble with my left hand as we made our way there. When we did arrive, I’d begin our workout by shooting 100 shots around the five spots of the perimeter to warm up. Anything above 75 makes was a plus, anything below a negative. Every shot was charted, every spot noted. Upon its completion, I began a variety of ball handling drills, going between my legs, around the back, cross over left to right and right to left. Ball handling never elapsed more than 20 minutes, because the colder it got the harder it was to shoot. Pop then had me start from mid court to work on fast break situations. I’d dribble three times to the right or left elbow (16’) and pull up. 50 of these; I needed to hit 40 of them for a plus sign in the book. We’d then move beyond the arc to work on my range. I’d shoot 150 three pointers from all around the arc. I needed 115 for that elusive plus sign. After threes, I shot 75 free throws, with my dad trying everything possible to distract me. “You suck Schultz,” he’d yell. “Booooooo, down 1 with zero seconds on the clock, ohhhhhhhh!” I needed 68 out of 75 for the plus sign.

Once free throws were complete, came the best part of every night. It was 10:00, sometimes snow flakes were falling, often times we had rain coming down, but it didn’t matter. It was time for one-on-one for dad and I. First to 5 baskets, all ones, winner’s out. He didn’t have the first step he once had, so pop has to use that “old man strength” to have a chance. He backs me down to the block; turn around jumper over the left shoulder, buckets; 1-0. Again and again, and then more time; 4-0 dad. Finally a miss; I get the ball back. I blow by him and finish with the left hand; 4-1. I nail two outside jumpers; 4-3. I cross over left to right, but he meets me. I counter with a step back, buckets; tie ball game.

Another outside jumper if off the mark, dad rebounds. It’s game point and I know he’s going down to the block. He backs me down to his favorite spot on the left block. I know what’s coming. Turn-around jumper, this time I block it. I clear the ball. Dad in full defensive stance, arms up, I jab step with the right foot, but he barely moves. I do it again, this time he drops back. Bingo! I head fake, cross back to the left, now I got him on my right hip as I drive to the tin. Two dribbles and I jump off my right foot to use my body to shield him away. I hold the ball with the left hand so he can’t strip it away and soar to the hoop. I release the ball with the left off the glass and in. Game over, I win. “Yesssss,” I yell. “Great game dad,” “great game Jordie. Getting better young man, getting better.” In a night full of pluses and minuses, reassurance from dad is the biggest plus of all.