On the Court...

 ... you find yourself on a court, a basketball floor, with the parquet wood if you can find it with a group of injured, aging former something-or-others living for that elusive adrenaline rush...and there, on that very court, (forget the polished wood, you'll take what you can get...)  you enter into that parallel universe where a certain kind of "perfect" or shall we say 'optimum" social interaction not only happens but is mandated, where the individual actually counts for something because he or she (in this case, myself) is actually necessary as one of only five players on a team working together towards a common goal...where the personal connection get validated even by complete strangers. Plunged into this dynamic vortex,  you suddenly finds yourself moving - gliding - shuffling - stopping and starting in a wild, arduous, fast-paced macho ballet of sorts  - but that's a good thing -  as long as you're on the floor - even for a pickup game - the light shines upon you and whatever gifts or contributions you can offer are noticed by others, even appreciated. The fact that such a world can exist - a sweaty world yes - but one in which that "people working together" cliche really comes to fruition. Let's forget about those games where no one passes the ball or plays defense, where elbows fly, where travels and double-dribbles occur; no one gets a charge call; people get fouled - as in hacked, hammered, taken out, quasi-decapitated - every time they drive the lane. The two or three hog-doggy, show-boaters get their 20 points with zero assists and suck the proverbial air out of the gym while others stomp off cursing under their breath.  Let us dwell on those more civilized show-downs where people who know the game somewhat are able to reach that lofty plateau known as spontaneous "team ball" (think: New York Knicks circa 1969-1973, Boston Celtics 1986 and 2008, Dallas Mavs 2014, San Antonio Spurs, 2007, 2014). It's here where a real sense of possibility takes over and you get caught up in that collective unconscious task of striving, working, toiling for the greater good - often times not even realizing the sheer exertion you're putting forth - here again in contrast to "jogging" where every step is sheer torment - in this game - you get lost in the group effort, and by the time you know you're tired, the game is almost over...It's that universe where five people are called upon to do great things - having only met and memorized each other's first names minutes before -setting screens and blocking out, doing pick-and-rolls on the fly, making outlet passes and alley-oops,  keeping the ball moving in a continuous series of deftly executed precision passes until someone - winking at his compadres - breaks these beautiful rhythmic motions with a well-timed shot. A channelling of passions - yes - that is a huge part of what makes this universe hum. A proper venting - release of certain overwrought, aggressive instincts, including but not limited to: anger, enmity,  petulance, hubris, fear, sorrow, regret, insecurity, grit, folly, vitriol, desperation, vain-glory, delusions of grandeur (is that a feeling?) such as must and do show themselves ON THE COURT sometimes - but in a good sort of unavoidable way as when the point guard to takes the ball to the rim and gets taken down by the power forward - before he can even mumble "and one..." is already glaring at this guy (who, truth be told, is perhaps not a natural athlete or "baller" at that by any means, somewhat clumsy with the footwork, but making up for it with brawn and swinging elbows) and the guy who just got mauled staring daggers at this bruiser as if to say: "Think you're somebody, dude, tryin' a break my neck like a @$#@#$% linebacker? You think we playin' hockey out here?