I liked to play basketball when I was an adolescent.
Actually I didn’t play the game, because there was nobody in the neighborhood with whom I could play. I didn’t know the rules of the game anyway. I just liked to shoot baskets. I had a hoop that was mounted on the side of the house and I would shoot baskets for hours at a time.
Our house had a unique location. It was situated on a small plateau on the side of a hill. A dirt driveway led to the front of the house. We had a small yard in the back, through which ran a walkway leading past our neighbor’s house. From there, the walk led to steps through a wooded hillside down to the roadway and an intersection with a busy highway and a secondary road. The steps consisted of six flights of 10 steps each, with a landing and wooden seat on each.
On one side of the house was a 30-foot drop-off, just three feet away from the house, that ended onto a busy three-lane highway close to an intersection. On the other side was a continuation of the driveway that extended to the neighbor’s house. The basketball hoop was located on that side of the house. And that is where I shot hoops.
One day, the ball got away from me. It rolled down the driveway to the busy highway and started to roll down there. Did I mention that the busy highway sloped down to the intersection with the highway and back up? Well, I predicted that my basketball was going to do that very same thing.
I ran to the back yard, past the neighbor’s house, down the six flights of steps with the landings to the roadway. I crossed the intersection after looking both ways for traffic, while keeping my eye on the ball as it rolled and bounced from one side of the busy highway to the other on its merry way. I ran with abandon, as that ball was important to me.
It was on the opposite side of the busy highway and was dangerously close to another secondary road that turned off to the right. I stood there, helplessly, as traffic prevented me from crossing.
As I stood there, contemplating my next move, a car pulled over beside the ball. My first thought was that someone was going to grab it and drive off with it. Instead, a man stepped out of the passenger side, picked it up and, once I had safely crossed the busy highway, handed it to me. How I treasured that ball as I carried it back across the busy highway, across the secondary road, up the six flights of steps, past the neighbor’s house and into my back yard.
This incident came to mind a couple of weeks ago as Sweetheart and I were watching a high school basketball game. The girls played first and then the boys. They played with abandon. They had their minds and bodies fixed only on the game. They jumped high to retrieve missed shots. They extended their bodies to catch passes. They twisted their bodies to pull the ball away from their opponent. As I watched, I contemplated all of the muscles that were being pulled and the heads that were being bumped. It would mean a trip to the chiropractor or the massage therapist for me.
Sometimes, we do things with abandon, because we are focused on the task at hand and are willing to deal with the consequences later. Whether we plan ahead or press on with abandon, there are always consequences. Some bad consequences bring good later on. Some good consequences bring bad ones later.
But, sometimes the feeling of abandonment is all we need.
Dorothy is the author of two books—“Miles and Miracles” and “Getting It All Together “. You can purchase a book or send a comment by emailing her at dorothybutzknight@gmail.com
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