Benny Jay: Too Old For B-ball

October 3rd, 2018

For game two of my big basketball comeback, I make a momentous decision: I’m going to buy a pair of sneakers.

To replace the beat-up old running shoes I wore the first time around.

With the new sneakers, I announce to my wife, I won’t slip so much. Slipping being the reason I suck.

I announce this to my wife cause there’s no one else to announce it to.

To which she says: “Oh, that’s nice.”

Which is what she generally says when our conversation drifts to anything having anything to do with sports.

I go to the shoe store. Tell the lady: “I need a pair of basketball sneakers.”

And she says: “Look at you — Michael Jordan.”

I’m not in the least bit offended by her obvious sarcasm.

Bad sneakers and a pina colada, my friend….


I buy a pair called And One. Pull the laces really tight. They won’t budge. Pull them harder.

Realize I stretched something out of whack in my forearm. Game two hasn’t even started and already I’m injured.

This basketball thing’s harder than it looks.

Get to the gym, thinking we’re going to have eight players. Only have three. Not sure why the others don’t come. Probably cause they figure talking about basketball is more fun than actually playing it.

We had four players last time, but this time the Young One can’t come. Something to do with having dinner reservations at roughly the same time our game started.

A convenient excuse.

Point is — with just three people there’s more space to cover and I’m even more exhausted than the last time.

Norm’s the Dr. J of our game….


We play three games of 21. Or maybe four. I’m too tired to keep track. I’m sweating like a horse. Ready to drop.

Norm wins every game. Just like he won every game the last time. Now he’s getting cocky. Says he won’t let me or Cap score ten points.

We both reach the ten point mark. Don’t tell me there’s no such thing as a moral victory!

After the final game, I collapse on the floor — too exhausted to move.

Good news: My feet don’t hurt so bad, on account of the new sneakers.

Bad news: My forearm’s killing me.

“Can you believe my forearm hurts from lacing up my sneakers?” I tell Cap.

He’s too tired to say anything.

My cell phone rings. I struggle to sit up so I can answer it.

It’s a text from J.R — Cap’s brother. It says: “That’s why he’s the MVP.”

Apparently, D Rose just hit an amazing last-second shot to beat the Bucks. I collapse back on the floor.

Fast forward an hour or so….

I tell my wife: I think I got carpal tunnel syndrome from lacing up my sneakers.”

Actually, I’m not sure what carpal tunnel is.

She says: “That’s nice.”

Apparently, she thinks I was talking about sports.

Then she makes me move some boxes to the basement.

I’ll bet you D. Rose doesn’t have to move boxes to the basement after he plays basketball.

It’s going to be a long season….

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