The Upside To Palming A Half-Deflated Basketball

I'd like to share with you a recent experience I had on the street the other day, because it's one of those New York moments I love so much.

Some background first: I was running errands in the neighborhood when I swung by Goodwill. I go to this Goodwill two or three times a month. I always find interesting items there. For example, during this particular visit I saw a PlayStation 2, a "Space Jam" jersey and a Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine. If I had to summarize my life from ages 15 to 25 in 10 words or less, the words "PlayStation," "Space Jam" and "Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine" would absolutely make the cut.

I didn't buy any of those items from Goodwill, but I did buy a basketball. I'd been meaning to buy a basketball for a while. I used to play every day as a teenager, when I wasn't busy making homemade sno-cones. As an adult, I've played five times, if that. There's a court near my apartment, though, and I've been itching to shake the rust off the ol' jump shot.

So I left Goodwill with a basketball in hand. I should point out a few things: One, the basketball was half-deflated. I didn't mind since I have a bicycle pump at home; I could easily refill it. Also, the basketball had caved in juuuuust enough that I was able to palm it, and I got a real kick out of that.

Two, I was wearing a hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts because I was planning to stop in at the gym.

Here I was, walking around, palming a basketball in my hand, wearing a hoodie and basketball shorts. In 48-degree weather. In that moment, I was the most imposing 5'6" basketball player in the neighborhood. I could see it in others' faces. They were really impressed.

I even had a spontaneous exchange with one person; it's the reason I'm writing all of this. A man walked up next to me, made eye contact and blurted out, "Who is the best basketball player of all time?" Completely out of the blue, only it wasn't completely out of the blue because I was palming this basketball and therefore must have had some insight on the subject that I'd be willing to share. I was flattered.

My answer to the question was Michael Jordan. The reasons are obvious: I grew up watching him, he won six championships and 10 scoring titles, and, most importantly, he was the star of "Space Jam."

The man chose Dr. J, who, for the record, tallied three championships, three scoring titles and zero appearances in "Space Jam."

It's funny how I earned more respect palming a half-deflated basketball than I ever earned when I actually played basketball when I was younger. I may never inflate the basketball. I might skip the court entirely and just palm the ball around the block for a few laps every now and then.

The One Time I Ran The New York City Marathon

The New York City Marathon rolls through my neighborhood every year, and I find it to be a mixed bag. On one hand, it adds excitement to an area that's otherwise relatively quiet. I mean, how often does a world-class sporting event take place right at your doorstep?

On the other hand, the marathon is a mess, quite literally. The amount of trash discarded on 1st Avenue by the runners is something to behold. It's a sea of paper cups, granola bar wrappers, sponges and more for miles.

Every now and then when I see litter on the street, I'll collect it and toss it into the nearest trash can. Litter bothers me. Sanctioned litter, which is what the waste left behind by the marathon runners really is, bothers me a little more. What if every runner picked up just one piece of trash on the route? That would be nice and thoughtful, wouldn't it?

Especially those runners who take their sweet time. If you're stopping every couple of minutes to wave and say hello to your friends and family, or to take photos, can't you grab that banana peel on the ground and carry it with you for a bit, while you're at it? Let's keep our city clean.

My other ongoing concern with the marathon is that it's a real challenge for residents to cross 1st Avenue in either direction. You're essentially sealed off from the other side for most of the day. This was a great source of frustration and stress for me a few years ago, when I was dating my now-wife.

I was supposed to meet with her for a walk to a friend's birthday party in the neighborhood. The problem was, I was on the eastern side of 1st Ave, and she was on the western side. I could see her from across the street, and I didn't know how to reach her.

This is the hidden cost of marathons that no one talks about. They split couples apart.

"I'll come over to you as soon as I can," I told her on the phone. "Don't move!"

Forty-five minutes later, after a long and slow walk up 1st Avenue through the crowd cheering on the runners, still with no idea of how I'd cross the street, I approached a police officer. I explained my situation.

"Officer, I need to get to the other side. My girlfriend is waiting for me and I have to get to her right away. I love her and my entire future depends on it," I said. OK, so I didn't say that last line, but I kind of wish I had, in retrospect. It sounds very urgent and Marty McFlyish.

"If you can find an opening, you can go for it. But make it quick," he replied.

He was suggesting I dash across the street in the middle of the New York City Marathon, which was not the solution I was hoping for. I don't know what I was hoping for, but it was not my preference to position myself in front of dozens and dozens and dozens of oncoming runners.

But that's what I did, because what other choice did I have? I zigged in front of one person, I zagged in front of another. I might've hopped over trash once or twice. It was "Frogger," "Paperboy" and "Mario Kart" all mushed into one.

I made it to the other side of the street in less than 10 seconds. Really, I ran the marathon in less than 10 seconds. Not in the correct direction, of course, but given how little training I had, it's still a remarkable achievement.

That was the one and only time I ran the New York City Marathon. And, fortunately, my future marriage remained intact.