These guys playing pickup basketball are no professionals. Why, then, do I find them so much more fun to watch? 

Life lessons on a basketball court

It is mid-morning. Cool for late spring. The dog and I have gone for our constitutional in a small park near where we live.

There’s a basketball court. Old-style painted backboards, slightly tilted baskets. Eight guys (late 20s to early 40s) are playing half-court. A couple are in good shape, perhaps played in high school. Tallest is maybe 6-foot-2; most are well under six feet.

Keeping score but not carefully. Fouls are called by the person committing them. Few arguments. No free throws. Team that scores gets to keep possession.

We sit and watch. Pretty soon I am focused on the main playmaker for one team, and the slowest person on the other (he rarely jumps). Both are approximately the same shape— short and relatively wide. They smile, they laugh, they applaud each teams’ three-point shots and good ball movement on inside scores.

The dog, not sharing my enthusiasm for schoolyard-type play, figures it’s time for more walking. I have trouble pulling myself away. Keep on looking over my shoulder. In many ways, I realize, these folks (yeah, I know, I used to be one) are much more fun to watch than the pros.