A slice of Scharnow history came tumbling down this weekend.
Thankfully, it didn’t come tumbling down on my head, which was my number one priority as I took a bold step and dismantled the basketball hoop in my front yard.
I felt old for two reasons as I worked to take the hefty hoop apparatus apart piece by piece.
First, I had to take about seven water breaks because I was so hot and so winded. Talk about being out of shape. Holy cow…I’m thinking maybe I should have left the hoop up and just started playing some basketball on a regular basis.
Second, that hoop has seen quite a bit over the years. There have been many pickup games out there on the street (more on that later).
Years and years ago I had a smaller portable basketball hoop out on the asphalt. The boys were small yet, and it fit our needs rather well.
I came back from vacation one summer and my neighbor came over, told me the hoop had blown over in a monsoon storm and the rim banged down on his brother’s car. Ouch.
So my insurance had to pay for the car repair, and the rim was severely bent.
One of my neighbors at the time was Dr. Thomas Moss, who was dying from cancer. He had a nearly brand new hoop sitting dismantled in his driveway and he was looking to unload stuff. He wanted me to have it, because he knew I’d use it and that my young boys would enjoy it. He loved basketball, and he looked upon it as a legacy gift to the neighborhood.
The hoop was not your typical Toys-R-Us model. It had two sturdy reinforced metal frames, a heavy clear fiberglass backboard, a rim that moved when you dunked (at least that’s what I heard) and a huge base, which I filled with sand. I anchored it solidly next to the curb, making sure it wouldn’t topple from winds.
My boys, nieces and nephews played plenty of basketball out there. The neighbor kids used it, too. I had – when I was in shape – some rigorous one-on-one games with my kids on that hoop.
It was good exercise and good father-son bonding time. It usually worked to lure them out of the house and onto the pavement – get away from that computer or that X-box. We had a lot of laughs out there; we also had a few serious talks out there…
I’ve even spied a Harris hawk or two and a few owls perched up on the backboard in the evening hours.
But, as with all things, Father Time has the final say. The hoop has been lonely in recent years. One “boy” is 23 years old and not living at home anymore. The “baby” is 19 years old and has plenty of other interests than shooting hoops. The neighbor kids are more into soccer than basketball. The rusty hoop itself was beginning to show its age, and of course what yard couldn’t use some sprucing up?
It’s probably better to take it down myself than watch it come tumbling down on its own.
Definitely one of those bittersweet moments in life – a lot of memories behind that sports apparatus, yet a time of renewal because not much stands still as life marches on (except for one heavy-duty basketball hoop).
