A Life of Anxiety and Basketball

Wonderful. So many things I could see and feel.
I'm 5'11" and will tell my 4 yo son, when he gets older, that in my prime, I could dunk a slightly under-inflated volleyball. I'll say that with some pride. I was told by the best player in my regular pick-up game that I had great skills but I was a head-case. And I was.
We all try to find the zone to be ourselves and not over-think stuff. It's a challenge that lasts a lifetime. Just breathe.

Forget the documentary about the poet and watch Weiner. There's a lesson for you in there somewhere. Good luck.

Foreigners and hipsters call soccer "The Beautiful Game"; basketball players know better--especially if they have played both.

That made my day!!
Among life's most important lessons. Learning how to stay loose.
Thanks for this.

As a Hoosier basketball fan from Midnight Madness to the NBA draft, I loved this. I didn't realize how much anxiety a young basketball player experiences. However, the picture just as much fun . . . that hair!

I’m 76. I was a high school all star. Big fish in a little pond. County player of the year. Still hold the school scoring average record. In the championship game I scored 5 points. We lost. It’s the only game that I can think about, which I do often, always at night, in the dark, staring at the ceiling.

Reading the previous comments shows how gullible some readers are to believe all of that piece is true. Maybe the writer should make an appointment with the children's fictional character Dr. Ted. He will help treat the rash and you don't have to thank him.
I am sure these same readers believed Lance Armstrong's fictional tales.

Love this article! As a hoops junky - mediocre high school player - even more mediocre small college player - and still 'balling at nearly 60, I could totally relate.
6'6" and have worked to develop a good outside shot since I haven't been able to dunk in a good many years.
I'll never forget the thrill of HS hoops, the gym rockin', the cheerleaders beautiful, the small town rivalries epic. And my HS coach telling me at graduation "never give up on the greatest game around".
I didn't, basketball is life!

Terrific column that captures the anxieties we all have--all of us--pretty much daily. I'm seven years older than Steve Friedman, and I played basketball, too, but it was at a different level, because girls played a different game. Still, I pass by the open gym on my way to exercise at the Y, and I see men my own age, shooting hoops, and I really, REALLY want to join them. Then I remember that I have a new knee and that I am really short (I played when they used to LET short women play), and that if I screw up this new knee, will Medicare pay for yet another one? And I can play tennis with this new knee, so why should I mess around, shooting baskets?

But, man, I love basketball. I love driving into the basket and shooting a layup. I love taking an outside shot and watching it sink into the net I loved practicing foul shots. For hours.

And, for the record...I play competitive tennis with people my own age. I have used that "pretend it's practice" phrase with new tennis players who are competing for the first time. I tell them, "Make believe you're playing in your leagues or contracts." Works like a charm. Even with older women who have never played competitive sports in their lives. And many haven't.

Basketball is the best drug

Walter Mitty makes his appearance again!

I think any of us who participated in high school sports has a similar story, not necessarily with this particular flavor or intensity of anxiety, of course, but with an untold story of the great importance the whole thing had to us that others couldn't have been aware of. So thanks Steve, great story.

Except for most of use the mania didn't carry over into our adult lives. Although I sometimes still find myself lying in bed with an imaginary wrestling match playing out in my head I wrestled my last real match decades ago. So Steve's account of never letting go is just fascinating. Steve, I'm glad you finally found love--and I don't think you need a comeback, but if you can somehow do it, hey, go for it man!

LOVE this.

I got to share many of these times with this great guy. Whatever he apparently was feeling, he was never anything but fun. Immediately after he realized he had forgotten to check in at the scorers table, I remember him laughing. It also must be said ... the man could "score" the basketball.

Great stuff, thanks!

hip hip hooray

who's out?
who's skins? shirts?

that's not a foul...

halftime rants - - - even when we led by 10 at home...
don't make the ref a sixth opponent...
why did "you" call time-out?

joy sorrow mischief
hot and hotter practices
locker room stench
too little water
too small towels
not enough tape
drafty cold bus rides
too much pine time
for one more chance

tourney is over

ohio high school hoops, 1960s

Thanks for sharing Steve! A vividly painted portrait showing life is indeed the journey, not a destination.

Wonderful article!
I am the same age as the author and the days of playing hoop anytime, anywhere, win or lose, will always be cherished.

Congratulations to my high school classmate! Wish I could write about cardio kick-boxing the way you do about basketball; it has the same effect on me.

Loved this! I started playing basketball my freshman year of high school - just a few years after Title IX was passed and girls were just starting (and being allowed to play real ball). I wasn't anxious when I played, but basketball was my psychological and emotional refuge in a turbulent family life and being a teenager. I learned most of my emotional life skills from The Game - "Comeback or not, I'll be fine".

What a wonderful piece! And such a poetic way of using basketball as a metaphor for the fact that there really is no "cure" for anxiety... you just keep showing up and playing the game!

I really enjoyed this. Reminds me of myself in some respects. Good in practice, nervous in games. I heard once that basketball was all about visualization. Might be true.

Great hair!

That sums it up beautifully. As a kid who grew up on the playgrounds of the Bronx, I can totally relate. My favorite moments in life were playing basketball by myself with pretend opponents, teammates, and fans. It was where I felt the safest. The greatest place to unload all the anxieties that come with inner city life. Wonderfully written, Mr. Friedman.

In the picture, Mr. Friedman looks a lot like Pistol Pete Maravich. I'm thinking that the ball went in.

I averaged 8 points my senior year. In practice it would have been 16. The best thing for performance anxiety is to keep jumping into the fray and have fun doing it.

Great article Steve. Truly, I enjoyed your story very much. But, I'm anxious about something.

"Only one thing reliably delivered relief, and I devoted at least two hours daily to it."

Did I miss something or did you tell me what that one thing is/was. Seriously, talk to me Brother Anxious.

As I, reluctantly, entered middle age, I was still happily playing pickup basketball games. Then it happened, the harsh, reality wake up call. I was in a pick up game, aggressively guarding a kid half my age, I flicked his dribble away, and ran after the loose ball to complete the steal, I reached for the ball, when my right hamstring said that's enough. The pull was so severe I fell as though shot in the back of the leg. I recovered after eight weeks, but the pickup games are over. Now, I shoot for a half hour a day, I call it my personal zen time. It's still gratifying.

Over the calf tube socks. High top Chuck Taylors. Pete Maravich floppy hair. Those were the days.

Nice to see you are still writing and doing it well too. Still remember the long ago piece on Marshall Rogers.

THis was great! Felt like I was reading my own thoughts. Really nicely done. I've got a basketball game tonight; I'll try to envision it as a practice instead of my own Game 7.

This is why I subscribe to the NY Times.

Love this. Thank you.

....laughed when I came to the description, "the woo-woo canon..."

Lovely. I ran cross country and track through high school and, though I matched or beat many of the top runners in our workouts, come race time, I was awful. Even something as...elemental?...as running has a huge psychological component.

You missed out the best antidote to anxiety - yoga. I guess there is still time.

When everyone else has grown up we are still playing. We are competing, we are living. We are basketball lifers.

I loved playing basketball, but I, too, would have such anxiety at games, I'd do the same -- double-dribble, airball, throw the ball to an opponent. But it wasn't just basketball, it was almost every aspect of my life that was crippled by anxiety. My Dad told me the only way I could "be more confident" was through experience. So I spent nearly a lifetime deliberately exposing myself to as many experiences I could that scared me. And in the process, I've had a very different life because of it -- a much richer one. Growing up anxiety was my enemy, now at mid-life, I've realized it's been my best friend.

My thanks to you and your point guard team mate. I wonder if some ancient Zen master had the idea first to call a surgery practice... practice. Staying calm and loose is best, in basketball and other things.

nice guy, nice share

Elegant anxiety awareness; beautiful hoops.

Really really nicely done.

Terrific read!

Wonderful writing! Made me think of my undersized, overly aggressive high school basketball days. A little garbage time on the floor and a lesson in humility that I never really mastered. Thanks!

A nice story about having a basketball "Jones". I did and I knew many others who did also. There are worse things in life.