Seeing The Light An Average Guy, Searching For Answers, Learns One Of Life’s Little Lessons In Lunchtime Game Of Basketball

At lunchtime every Tuesday and Thursday an unlikely group comes together at the YMCA in downtown Spokane. They are mostly men, although a female does join in from time to time. They walk in the front door of the Y wearing suits and ties, coveralls, tank tops, military uniforms and the occasional dress. They include lawyers, laborers, psychologists, restaurateurs, musicians and others.

Once inside the building, these people take off their street clothes.

What happens after that is a massacre sanctioned by the YMCA under the innocuous sounding “Open Adult Basketball” program. When you fill a gym with type-A personalities on lunch breaks from intense jobs and then leave them to their own devices (no referees, no supervision), the result is a sort of roller-derby basketball.

These are sick people, especially the ones who have been doing it longer than myself (10 years). I’ve suggested to most of them that they would better utilize their lunch hour by visiting the museum or one of the several art galleries nearby but my thoughtful offerings fall on deaf type-A ears. They usually respond to my suggestion with their own suggestion that I do something of a self-degrading nature.

Among these hapless souls is one Rob Young, former all-city football player from Shadle Park, University of Idaho standout and Pittsburgh Steeler try-out camper. On the Masculinity Spectrum, I had always viewed Rob on the opposite end from the Phil Donahue/Richard Simmons type.

The preceding offers some background to what shall follow, which is a Lesson of Life that I received from Rob who may be referred to hereafter as my Spiritual Adviser.

During the past few years I’ve had a vague feeling that I’d missed the evolution of male temperament toward a more gentle nature. I was seeing more and more men being nurturing toward their children, assuming domestic duties and acting as gentlemen (with new weight to the “gentle” part of the term). I didn’t want to be a pansy, I just wanted to experience life as a fuller human being, trite as that may sound.

So with this concern about my gentle side weighing on my mind, I entered the gym at the YMCA, an unlikely place to find truth about the matter. Even the females who show up are macho.

As we began to play basketball, I committed myself to containing my anger and returning love for hate. After a few trips up and down the court, my commitment was momentarily forgotten as Rob and I wrestled for a rebound, during which I got the advantage by delivering a not-so-gentle elbow to the side of Rob’s head.

He didn’t say boo but gave me what appeared to be a hurt glance. As my team took the ball down the court, I felt bad about my conduct and Rob’s reaction.

The play stopped while two players argued, so I took advantage of the break to go to Rob and apologize for the elbow. “Thanks,” he said. “People think us big guys are mean but inside we’re really gentle. We seem mean because everybody expects us to be mean. We’re nice if people are nice to us.”

This was not Phil Donahue talking. This was Rob Young. If he has a gentle side, why couldn’t I? I felt inspired.

“You’re right,” I said. “I think I’m getting it.”

The players’ argument ended and the other team put the ball in play just as I reached up to put my arm around Rob’s shoulder to show my heartfelt appreciation. At that moment he hit me with a pile-driving elbow that forced my stomach up into my lung cavity and my lungs into any available voids in my throat. Then he turned, received a well-placed pass and laid the ball up gently, ever so gently into the basket.

MEMO: Darin Z. Krogh is a free-lance writer based in Cheney.

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