This story follows a previous tale told. Check out part 1 here.

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The cast on my right arm went all the way from palm to just past my elbow–plenty of fiberglass real estate for signatures–and locked my busted limb at an almost ninety degree angle. As a left-hander I continued to write and eat normally. Shooting basketballs was a different matter.

B-ball had only been a hobby until that time. My injury coincided with a growth spurt that left me near 6’3 and skinny as a rail for my senior year. I had not played basketball during high school even though my friends all did. Once I became the second tallest kid in school more parents suggested that I join the team.

Before breaking my arm, I used to shoot from the gut. Both arms extended at once, the left pushing and right guiding. That bulky cast took my guide arm out of commission for weeks.

After a few cramped days indoors, I decided to pick up a ball again. If I released the ball from overhead I could use my right arm to guide the shot despite being incapacitated. With that adjustment I discovered a new release point and launched hundreds of balls in that way before the big day when that dirty, itchy cast was sawed off.

As soon as I got home I grabbed a ball and hit the street. I’ll never forget the first shot I took. I reverted to my old release, hands pushing from the hip.

Your elbow gets locked in a bent position after being stuck that way for so many weeks. My tender arm was not ready to be yanked straight when I forced it that day. I clutched my arm and crumpled in pain. Practice ended after about ten seconds.

I never shot a ball that way again.

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When the season began I played center behind our 6’6 starter Scotty. I learned the game as we practiced our plays over and over.

The main play was called “shuffle.” I can still run that thing in my head all these years later. The job of the center was to jump out to the foul line towards the top of the key, back to the hoop. After receiving the ball there you could dish to a sprinting guard or turn and shoot.

Coach wanted every player to be prepared, even the newbies like me. He cranked the heat up over 90 degrees during practice. We ran every team into the ground that year and went undefeated at home. I also learned that those crazy screaming coaches on sidelines can be great guys.

My big chance came on the road one night in January when Scotty got injured. I was in. Continue Reading…

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Apparently the NBA held its all-star game this weekend complete with the famous Slam Dunk competition. I don’t care as I’ve grown to despise that league, but once upon a time I loved basketball. A really lot. You could even say that the sport sort of changed my life. Here’s one of my stories.

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My doctor strolled in and clipped the x-rays to the viewbox. “It’s broken in four places,” he said to me and my mom.

I was a junior in high school, and mom happened to also be the technician who took scans of that busted arm after my aunt drove me to the medical center. Well, that’s just perfect, I thought.

My skinny bones had all been in tact three hours earlier when me and the boys shot hoops at the beginning of gym class. Someone decided they wanted to jump off of a chair and do some slam dunks. We followed. I threw down with ease while a couple others still couldn’t get there. I might have been gloating a little.

Someone said, “let’s see you do it with two hands.”

Remember that show The Wonder Years with Kevin and Winnie? As I look back on what happened next in that gymnasium, the adult narrator that I’ve become describes the scene in that same pithy voice.

If those other guys thought I couldn’t dunk with two hands I would show them. I would soar through the air like Jordan and bring down the thunder like Dominique.

I grabbed a ball and stared down the lane. The chair was positioned sideways with its back to the right. I would have to be mindful of such an alignment because I was left-footed. I considered the slippery legs of the steel mount as well. You had to hit the seat and push off just right, center flush, or the chair would shoot away and you’d kiss the court at 50 miles per hour.

No problem, I thought.  I’ve got this. Continue Reading…

One of the biggest questions we all ask in life is “who am I?” The historian part of me knows that much of that answer comes from events in the past. I love talking about questions of meaning and purpose with people. Some folks know exactly who they are while others struggle to find a personal identity. Some recent reading has me pondering these thoughts in a different way lately.

Who would you be if you couldn’t be you?

In response to a recent post on this site, Aunt Bethany left a comment that really got me thinking. Here’s what she said:

“One of the biggest challenges in the world is attempting to find who you are when you can no longer define yourself through work or what you’re “good” at. Imagine if you could no longer teach, or write…or if I couldn’t be a musician anymore…THEN what?”

Great question. How are we defined? I’ve known for a few years that I was made to write, teach, and speak. That’s what I got. I may have a nice swing in the batting cage and maybe I can even carry a tune here and there, but those are not things that define  me. I am a communicator. That’s what I excel at. I often wonder what I would do if lost the ability to speak or type.

With thoughts like that bouncing around my brain, I read an article by Garrison Keilor in Men’s Health. Keilor–one of the great writers of our era–wrote the piece to describe the stroke he suffered in 2009. He recounts the day the doctors showed him a scan of his brain and how grateful he felt that this “beloved organ” had not been damaged.

“I don’t care about my stomach, and the heart is only a muscle, and my lungs, scarred by 20 years of smoke, are doing the best they can, but my brain is where I live.”

As I finished the article I realized there are many ways to “lose” who we are. In addition to mortgaging our future, selling our soul, and abandoning our dreams we can also be stricken. Whether the oncoming disaster is a speeding vehicle or debilitating clot matters little.

So, I’m big on setting goals and moving forward. No reason to fear circumstances beyond our control, but I sure want to take hold of those things I can direct.

In the midst of these musings I received a book on goals from a site called AudioBookWorm.Com. I’ve been a member there for a while. They do books on CD like Netflix does movies. I filled out my queue a while ago, but this recent work showed up at a good time.

I’m not real big on self-help books which is often a racket, but I do check out positive thinkers from time to time and occasionally find a good one. I always liked Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

The author of this particular CD was Zig Ziglar, a name I’d heard although I didn’t know anything about him. He made his name as a writer and speaker for decades. His most famous work is See You at the Top: 25th Anniversary Edition.

This audio version was actually a recording of a talk Ziglar had given about 20 years ago I think. The intro sounded like some hokey 1980s synthesized number that could’ve been playing in the background of a Brat Pack movie. Zig’s got the thickest southern accent you ever heard, but he’s a gifted speaker and made lots of good points.

It’s good to always rethink who we are and what we’re attempting to do. I’m trying to get in the habit of writing down specific goals and putting a date on them. That’s a great way to challenge myself. The point is that I don’t think I can imagine myself as someone who didn’t write or teach.

I’m curious about how you think of yourself. I’m always fascinated when someone tells me how they view me. Have you ever heard someone describe you in a way you never saw yourself?

Some people don’t like who they are to which I say, “Who do you want to be?”

Google led me to an article recently that had an interesting poll about goals. I can’t remember where I found the thing, but I’m recreating the general idea here. As I often ask students, “What would you try if you knew you couldn’t fail?” I would love to hear some of your thoughts.

What are some of the roles, things, abilities that define you?