A Failure to Launch

The cards were stacked against me, I tell ya.

Per the previous post, I have been in training.  I have been doing all sorts of jumping exercises with the goal of throwing a dunk down by July 25th, 2015; my 35th birthday.  Then, like seemingly every other goal I've set, shit got in the way.

Five days before the big day, I got sick.  I was just working too much in the heat and my body said "You know what, fuck you, too!"  By the time I re hydrated, it was time to rest up for the big day.

The day came and I was hype.  Got up early, dropped some stuff at the library and downed a cup of coffee AND drank a five hour energy.  I was ready to jump over the moon... then my wife and daughter took 2 hours to get ready.  This had a disastrous effect.  First of all it killed my excitement and coffee buzz, which made me go from crunk to irritated.  Also, it allowed the heat index to reach 95 degrees.  If you don't know what the heat index is, it's the measurement they use when it's already hot as fuck, but it feels even hotter.  That meant sweaty hands and a smaller success window.

Now, the only park with a swing set for baby girl and shade for daddy is behind my old high school, not very far away.  The only problem is, that court is raggedy as hell.  They have a full court but it's really only the size of a regulation half court.  One of the goals is about a foot too high so that was out and the other one is (by my estimation) slightly higher than regulation and has one of those ghetto ass double rims that doesn't know the meaning of "rattled in".

When we got there, I took one look at the usable rim and thought "no way".  That shit looked higher every time I looked at it... Then I took a practice jump.  It was wrist over the rim.  I was up there.

I can't jump like that with the ball in my hand because I still need quite a bit of lift from swinging my arms but that first jump filled me with hope.  I didn't think I COULD, I thought I WOULD if only I could get one good pass (If only I was still full of caffeine!).

So my wife was to be my passer.  She played basketball, she watches basketball, I thought she may have had some clue as to the timing necessary for a good pass... I thought wrong.

I don't know how many rim runs I made just to see the ball come up way too late, too high, off target etc.  Maybe my baby thought I was Blake Griffin but I ain't got it like that.

With every missed opportunity it just got hotter.  Mind you I have a 2-year old out there and I, being a mother hen, was very conscious of little mama over heating.

Even with all that there were three or four close calls.  There was one that I thew at the rim so hard that my finger swole up and turned purple.  There was one that popped up and in and another that I managed to guide home without touching the rim; didn't count.

After about 30 minutes and a string of bad passes in a row, I called it a day.  My legs were beginning to tire and there were errands to run, a baby to cool off and it was my birthday (tequila to drink).

When I started this journey I could barely touch the rim.  Now, I was close enough to taste it.  That thought kept my head high on the way back to the car.

Now, of course the goal remains.  I am there, I just need that one perfect chance and I got it.  I'm far more flexible and that little line is showing up in between my abs so at least there's some added hotness going on.  I actually a little worried I might let myself go once the job is done.  I am 35 and a LOT of my 35-year old friends are... not in so good shape.  Also, I bought myseld 'Destiny' on Xbox 360 for my birthday so yeah, there is couch time in my future.

First things first, though.  Gravity will be defied,  The sky owes me a kiss and I shall take flight (Just as long as these knees hold out.)