When I was in high school, I stunk at basketball. I was really really un-good. Every simple, uncontested layup was a Hail Mary. I could bounce the ball OK, but that was about it.
As a freshman, at the suggestion of a friend, I went out for the team anyway. Classic peer pressure from a cute girl (thanks Valerie). After the first couple of days of practice, the coach pulled me aside and leveled with me. "You know, it'll be a very long time before you see any time in a game. Would you consider being a scorekeeper instead?" And so it was, official team scorekeeper for four years. And it was actually a good gig - when the team got out of school early for an away game, I got out of school early for an away game. Free admission to all games, prime seat to watch the game (although didn't include seats for friends).
You may be asking, "where does the dream part come into play?". Well, here's where. One of those years, I received a basketball backboard and hoop for Christmas. It was a nice one - with solid metal frame, designed to mount to a garage or a pole or some similar structure. Unfortunately, we had no such structure. The driveway was barren gravel, the end of the barn was a rubble field, and installing a pole was about as likely as renting a spaceship for the weekend. So, actually installing the hoop would be put on hold until... later.
And that brings me to today, when it is years later. Decades later. The hoop and backboard went by the wayside a move or two ago (although I wouldn't be surprised if they traveled to Florida and back). And today, we still have a gravel driveway, but now I have a garage and can put up a pole if I want. But it's not going to happen. So today, the steel angle that was intended to comprise the support structure is in the recycling bin, cast off so no one else has to do it for me. It's a little sad, but I'm good with it. And it the final analysis, I REALLY stunk at basketball anyway.
