Funny Guy Friday... Have I ever told you how good I was?

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     I want to start this week's Funny Guy Friday by reminding everyone that as a youth, I was quite an athlete. Every year, I played three sports and started in all three. Not only did I start, but I played a key role on almost every team that I was ever involved with.
     During football season, I played quarterback. I recall one game where I threw for more than three hundred yards and five touchdowns. Pretty impressive numbers... for a nine-year-old. That's right boys and girls, I was slinging that ball all over the field right from the start. Our offense was designed around the fact that I could throw it and three kids could catch it. Did I mention I was nine?
     In basketball, I played point guard and helped lead the Benjamin Tasker Tigers to the Junior High School championship! It was during that time that I caught the eye of young cheerleader who could not  take her eyes off of me. She watched every move I made, and, although she may deny it now, she fell in love with me right then and there.
     Unfortunately for this young cheerleader, the feelings were not mutual. My mind was on basketball and not on girls. But I'll give her credit, she persevered and weaved an elaborate twelve-year scheme that resulted in our marriage.
     Okay, that is not exactly true. Cheryl did cheer me on in junior high... only she didn't really remember my playing on the team. When she told me this, I reminded her that I was one of two white guys that actually played. To prove that she was not just cheering but was actually watching the games, she did manage to identify my buddy John Reilly.
      But let's get back to my athletic career... After my sophomore year, I gave up both basketball and football and concentrated on baseball. This proved to be a good move as I was named a high school All Met and received a scholarship to the University of Maryland. Yay for me!
     So, why am I reminding you of how good I used to be?
     Because I used to be good. Now I stink.
     Well, I don't stink... but I am not very good.
     This week, I received two painful reminders of my decline.
     First, on Thanksgiving, during the family Turkey Bowl, whenever the other team needed a first down, they threw the ball to the guy I was covering. He did not catch them all... not because of the coverage but because the passes were just out of his reach. The guy (younger than I) ran past me, he ran around me, he even ran through me a time or two.
     This strategy of picking on the weak link is nothing new; you always exploit that guy if you have to.  I mean you don't do it on every play, just when you need to do it. I've been doing it for years... it is an art really. You do it, but you don't make it obvious. Unfortunately, with my past experience, I was well aware of their stupid little strategy.
     Well, guess what... It didn't work... we won. So there!
      Let me take this opportunity to apologize to all of my family members that I have exploited on the gridiron in past Turkey Bowls. It will never happen again... Unless it is completely necessary!
     The second reminder that I may just be past my prime came on Wednesday. I play basketball with a bunch of guys on most Wednesday nights, but this week we were one man short so I asked Matthew to join us. This seemed like a good idea but then I started thinking... will Matthew be able to keep up. He's only fifteen so may not be strong enough to compete with men. Perhaps he will crumble under the pressure of playing with his dad's boys. 
      We chose sides and Matthew and I were on the same team. This was good because I could make sure that no matter how bad he played, I could get the ball to him and try to involve him on offense. I also could help him out defending bigger and stronger players.
      We play four on four and play each game to eleven. I am here to tell you that in that first game, I was outstanding. Whether I was driving to the basket or hitting a few jump shots, I did it all.
      Matthew wasn't too bad. In fact, he was pretty good. Funny thing about being young and in shape. You get to balls quicker and run by guys a little easier. And you know what? He isn't weak at all. In fact, he is pretty strong, and for a kid that can't shoot, he seemed to be able to score every now and again. Not a bad initial game... we won pretty easily.
     But could he keep it up? We won the second game just as easily, but something was happening... my drives to the basket got a little tougher and my jumpers kept coming up just short. Some would say this is a sign of fatigue... they'd be right.
     But this fatigue thing wasn't really affecting Matthew. He was still quick to the ball and his drives to the basket seemed to be more frequent... and more effective. He got rebounds and he defended guys really well. I mean, he actually moves his feet and stays in front of guys instead of reaching and grabbing. He played defense like... dare I say it... like I used to.
     Things got progressively worse for me.
     At one point, Matthew had the ball at the top of the key and I was out on the wing. He was looking to pass the ball to me, but I was in the classic old man stance. You know the one... where you bend over at the waist and grasp the bottom your shorts with both hands. I had had enough and needed a break, so I waved him over to the other side of the court. I would like to say I was pacing myself, but I was gassed and needed a rest!  
     I must admit, it was a lot of fun playing basketball with Matthew.
     When I was growing up, my dad always reminded us that he was not there to be our friend... he was there to be a dad. He would remind us that his role was to keep us on the straight and narrow and tell us no when no was necessary. Friends don't do that. Friends tell you how great you are and oftentimes contribute to your demise. As we got older, our relationship changed a bit and he became more of a friend.
     Now, I don't profess to be the same caliber of parent that my dad was, but I do the best I can.  Matthew is still too young for me to be his buddy. He still needs a dad to keep him on the straight and narrow. However, playing basketball with Matthew was a blast. And this was kind of the first step of us hanging out together and becoming friends.
     It's going to be great... We will sit around and talk. I can tell him about... what a great athlete I used to be!