Skip to main content

The Basketball Team


The Basketball Team
Some people that know me. May have known that it took me four tryouts to make a basketball team as a child. Yep, it was seventh grade rec. I didn’t make it. I tried out for the eighth grade middle school team, didn’t make it. And it was quite a small town that I was residing in then.  My class in eighth grade was about sixty-two students in all. I gave it rest. Then I tried out again as a junior in high school. I didn’t make it.

Finally, in my senior year of high school, in a class of two hundred and sixty-two.  It was a regional high school. I made the varsity basketball team. Barely. Before I did, I can say this. I liked the kids who were on the team before I’d even made a team. I wasn’t friends with anybody on any of the teams I’d tried out for. I was the kid who kept to themselves, for the most part.

All the teams, the ones I didn’t make and the one I did make, I respected the results. I respected the individuals that made up all the teams. Three of the five coaches, deep down I didn’t care for their attitude in general. They were people I knew outside of the tryouts. And later on in life, I found out I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Yet, I went about my business and landed right where I should of, with the coach and his assistant who really understood me.  That appears to be quite ironic to me. How everything landed with such perfect timing for me.

Those years that I didn’t make the basketball teams, I had no animosity towards the teams, nor the children that made those teams. I knew those picked over me, were good at the game of basketball. I knew I was not built for basketball. Yet, I tried.  And as much as it hurt to fail, I still tried. I didn’t give up.  And I had no ill-will towards those that made it. And neither to those who gave me a failing grade in the tryouts. As well, I was awed by the athleticism of others that I did not have. Their athleticism, was the attraction that made me want to try out over and over and over again.  As well, I knew others who’d not made the basketball teams I’d tried out for. I practically felt just as bad for them as I did myself for my not making the teams.

What this all boils down to is what I have witnessed. Something that was despicable among anyone over the age of twelve. I saw ADULTS posting on social media, ‘if their candidate didn’t get the vote… they would never vote again.’ Well, that is what I would call in my day, ‘A SISSY’. ‘A MAMA’s Boy’. A BABY. SPOILED ROTTEN. There are plenty of derogatory words and phrases I could use here.  That my husband has heard.  I take the filter off with my hubby of over thirty-six years, and some special friends too.
In conclusion, if you can vote. If you’ve been complaining about who’s in charge or in office(s). And you don’t vote… You Are a SISSY! Because WE the PEOPLE, will eventually land right where WE should without you.  It’s not about you.  It’s about WE the PEOPLE… THE TEAM.---Jody-Lynn Reicher  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

2023 Holiday Letter from the Reicher's

Well, I didn't think I'd be doing a Holiday Letter this year, but here goes... The Spirit of Norm is in the air. As the wind whips with minus a true snowstorm.  In hopes the Farmers Almanac was correct, I pray to the snow gods. Rain ensued the month of December thus far. We have nearly tripled the amount of rainfall usual for December in New Jersey. And I've witnessed its treachery. Storms such as these hit us hardest in July. Then remained fairly intense through til about early October.  Our daughters are doing well, Thank God.  Their Dad would be proud of them. Our oldest Sarah, now a Junior at UCLA pursuing her degree in Chemical Engineering. She's digging the whole California scene. Which I thought it was for her. She's had some good traveling on her off times from school. For her March 2023 week off, she drove her and a few friends out to Lake Tahoe and went downhill skiing for a first in nearly 5 years. She had to rent the ski equipment.  Funny enough when

Sledging the Hammer

  "You could have a steam trainIf you'd just lay down your tracks..."---Peter Gabriel's 'Sledgehammer' lyrics. This is not the tune that lay in my mind this morning as I reminisced about yesterday's volunteers to help on trail crew.    However, as I looked up the proper definition of sledging that song popped up. I say sledging, which is my own take on swinging a hammer that we call a "Double Jack". The Single Jack is six pounds. I know that because our regular crew of five including me and one staff supervisor are handling Harriman State Park Trails, and have to carry about four of those, two shaping hammers, along with a hoist, belay bag with heavy equipment, first aid kit, double Jack, three 18lb rock bars, a lopper, three buckets, three eye to eyes, two burlap straps, two green wrapping straps, two pick Mattox, a roe hoe or two, a bar for either the two ton or one ton hoist, the feathers with pegs for splitting rocks that we drill... s

Maybe It's About Love

Maybe I just don't get it... "...My father sits at night with no lights on..."---Carly Simon  In my male-dominant mind. Dr. Suess-ish sing-songy "...go go go go on an adventure..." (George Santos' escapades gave me permission to use "ish".) I'd been accused of not being detailed enough in my writing. as my writer friend, Caytha put it to me now near twenty years ago. I knew she was correct. It's gotten a lot better, a whole bunch better. But the writing of sex scenes... Well... I'll need Caytha for that.  "...his cigarette glows in the dark..."---Carly Simon  Even my husband Norman could have written the simple sex scenes better than I, that I currently need in my script. And he was not a writer, but a math oriented thinker. Ala carte he was a nurturing romantic. And a sort of romantic Humphrey Bogart to his Ingrid. Otherwise, I won't go into details there. I'll let the mature audiences use their imagination. I am so