Tragedy

I had a traumatic experience last week. But first, the set up.

I play basketball every Thursday with a bunch of ministers, salesmen, and doctors. It’s a strange combination of players but it’s basically anyone who has flexibility built into their schedule so that they can get together on a weekday morning. I’ve been playing in this game off and on since I was in high school. When I took the recreation position at church, one of the biggest “perks” of the job was the opportunity to play in this game. Regardless of what my schedule looks like or how stressed I am, I play in this game every week because I’ve learned that the rest of my week tends to be a lot better after having played.

In my playing career, I’ve injured and reinjured my ankles and knees approximately one billion times, give or take a half million. I’ve suffered numerous high ankle sprains, a severely torn meniscus, five fractured or broken ankles, eight of ten toes broken (often many at the same time), etc. etc. This is what usually happens when I injure my poor neglected ankles: I go to the doctor. The doctor puts my foot in a boot or soft brace. The doctor tells me to stay off of it and not play for 4 to 6 weeks. I tell him “no problem.” I sit out for approximately two days. Then the sheer depression of not running around and playing sports gets to me, I take off the boot, wrap the ankle, and play through whatever level of pain I might have. (It should be noted that this is not a claim of manliness or toughness, but rather an illustration of the stupidity I routinely display in regards to injury.)

Right now I’m playing on what I believe to be a small fracture in the base of my ankle. I’m not 100% positive on this because I decided to forego the doctor’s visit and skip the middle man this time around. I’ve got my foot in a light brace and I’ve been playing without much problem. However, the risk of further aggravating the injury is obviously heightened right now.

Fast forward to Thursday. We’re playing the final game of the day and I’m feeling pretty good on the court. On the first play, I drive into the middle of the lane, jump stop hard, and kick it out to an open teammate. But as I land I hear a “pop” and my ankle twinges. Short of a bone bursting out of your skin, a “pop” sound is about the scariest thing you can be faced with in an athletic setting. Anytime you see an athlete get seriously hurt, he will almost always say he heard a “pop” as he went down.

I got a little scared and called for one of our replacements to sub in for me. I gingerly walked around the court, weakly testing the ankle, and hoping I hadn’t done something serious. It didn’t hurt anymore than it had before, which I found odd, and so I kept moving over to the bench. When I sat down, I brought my foot up to inspect the injury and was met with something I wasn’t prepared for. The sole of my shoe had torn loose of the fabric. The “pop” sound I had heard was the glue that holds the two pieces together tearing apart.

Tragedy had struck in the Fort Worth Christian High School gymnasium. My shoes were ruined.

Many of you may know my affinity for sneakers. I have many pairs and I make an attempt to rotate every couple of days to prevent them from getting too worn down. Basketball shoes are a slightly different animal. I am extremely picky about basketball shoes and I’m even more particular about how I take care of them. These shoes that had just been ruined have never been worn on anything except a wooden basketball court. That’s it. I wear a different pair of shoes into and out of the gym and I won’t even wear them to play on carpet or any other basketball surface. Basketball shoes are expensive and so I used to only buy one pair per year. When I bought a new pair, the old ones were given away or retired to “occasional use” status.

Lately, however, I haven’t been buying basketball shoes at all. I bought the ones I was wearing Thursday probably 5 years ago and each time I’ve tried to replace them, I’ve just ended up going back to them. They’re the lightest, most comfortable basketball shoes I’ve ever had and until a few weeks ago I hadn’t sustained any real ankle injuries while wearing them (which is a big deal). I haven’t bought a pair of basketball shoes in at least 3 years.

Now I have nothing but the broken fragments of my favorite shoes, left to start the search for the next great pair while at the same time feeling guilty about leaving a fallen comrade behind. Farewell dear Nike Air Speed Systems Mid Top basketball sneakers. You have served me well and you deserve far better than your fate of being used as a chew toy for my parent’s dog.