I was five-feet-two-inches tall when I was thirteen years old. I have remained that height for the past five decades. No amount of hanging upside down on the monkey bars stretched my little legs. Not only am I short, I am severely lacking in vertical jumping skills. While the small quick hops needed to jump rope come easily to me, catching air in a big vertical leap is not within my (current) skill set.

As a result, basketball never appealed to me.

The joy of movement

An off-chance encounter at Îlot Sportif Erik Guay challenged my thoughts on the game.

Dozens of teens were shooting hoops on the beautiful outdoor basketball court. A few were skateboarding on the nearby sidewalk. One brave young fellow was (unsuccessfully) attempting to do a wheelie on a bike that was clearly not cooperating.

What caught my eye was that some of the young women playing basketball were my height, and from what I could tell, also had limited vertical leaping skills. That did not seem to bother them much. They did not score, but they played with abandon nevertheless.

Regardless of the skill set, without exception, every one of these kids was in the moment. Enjoying the beautiful spring weather. Playing. Moving. Laughing.

Free throws

With nothing to lose, I decided I’d give basketball another try.

I dribbled the ball up and down the court. I shot from the free throw line. I missed the basket almost every time.

Those kids on the court were inspirational. But not in the way one might think. They did not inspire me to work toward becoming a basketball legend. By the simple act of playing, they inspired me to do the same.

I definitely did not “catch air”. What I did catch however, was fun.

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