Of those available, pickup basketball is not the best path to enlightenment. It’s not the best way to meet new people or make friends, as communication mostly happens in one or two-word commands and high-fives. It’s not the best way to get in shape, because you’re more likely to get hurt than play consistently enough to see sustained results. It’s not the best way to build confidence, since even good players miss sixty to seventy percent of their shots. It’s not the best way to improve your mental health, because aside from bars or boxing rings, a public basketball court is probably the best place in town to see people fight.
And yet, I can’t stop. I’ve been playing about two to three times a week in Denver for five years, mostly at the Carla Madison recreation center on Colfax, and I would be lying if I said I always enjoy it. I’ve been injured more than a dozen times with varying severity, from tweaked ankles to back spasms to a popping sprain in my right …
