Streaking down the court as fast as my little legs will carry me, clad in flashy blue shorts down to my shins, I hear our point guard call: ‘Raptor! Raptor!’ Raptor was a play of pure genius. As my teammate sets the pick I run to the center, catch a quick dish and throw up the jumper. The parents’ section erupts. I am a god.
Thirty seconds later I’ve got the ball again. After pulling off one of the most advanced moves of the time, a crossover, I blow by my defender and take it to the rack. I lift off toward the hoop in Jordanesque magnificence, prepared to execute the kind of finger roll most can only dream about. Then it hits me. It is not the realization that I am only 4’8”. It is literally an arm bigger than my body slamming into my face.
Sixth grade was the year I decided that the NHL could wait; I would give the NBA a try. At this crucial juncture in my life, my inability to make a three-pointer didn’t really seem like an obstacle. Inspired by Space Jam, and having just broken 100 pounds, I was ready to take on anything.
That summer, I spent hours every day honing my technique. My mother always kept a full stock of the essentials?grilled cheese, pizza and Gatorade?to facilitate my training. After all, the seventh grade Catholic Youth Organization Junior High team was no joke. When I made the team I was ecstatic. That winter, for two minutes a game, every Saturday, I felt nothing but joy.
By high school my competitive basketball career had come to a close and I devoted my attention to other athletic endeavors. Running cross-country and track suited my stature. Even so, at a stocky 5’10” and 137 pounds, I continue to play basketball to this day. As my friends can attest to, watching me play is truly stunning. I am awful. But I do enjoy a good game of basketball.
Since I embraced my lack of skill, I have been a valuable asset to any team. My tenacity and humor on the court keeps the game hilarious and fun to play. We finish our games laughing and content, as sappy and picture perfect as the movies that originally inspired me to play.
As my talent has no bearing on my desire to participate, it certainly has no effect on me as a spectator. I am proudly part of the massive population of people who cannot play but love to watch. It is our interest that enables a handful of people to actually make a career of playing a game.
As for me, I’ll stick to Yates, thank you very much. You might run into me one of these days looking for a friendly game of pick up. Just don’t ask me to shoot a three-pointer.
Eric Mittereder is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences and Cover Editor of The Georgetown Voice. He is still as adorable as the picture to the left indicates.
