No one really knows how old Ernie is. He was there when we arrived, and he will probably be there by the time we all leave. Ernie is a former Marine who now is a university mathematics professor, and a good one. And Ernie plays in the NBA.. He does so in the cold, calculating style that you would expect of a math professor. Everything has meaning, everything has a direction, and everything has an outcome. Basketball is an iteration to Ernie.
Ernie rarely misses when he shoots. But he has learned – most likely through extensive probability analysis – which shots he is good at and which he is not. He only takes the ones at which he excels. 12 feet, no more. Feet square under the body, hand under the ball, knees bent at 37.5 degrees, and eyes on the rim. He has one other shot… a little gliding hook that he will take when he feels chancy.
Ernie is in incredible shape. He plays tennis, jogs, lifts weights, pushups, situps, and who knows what else. And that is all right before playing noon basketball. If we don’t get quite a good enough workout, Ernie walks over to the weight room or the running track. It seems he just can’t get enough. Many days the rest of us are doing our best just to drag ourselves off the court. Ernie, who has not yet broken a sweat, puts on his sweat shirt and heads for the weight room.
I refer to Ernie as “The Truth” because of his calculating style. I also refer to him as such because he says it like it is. If someone is hogging the ball, Ernie will make sure it is known. If too many young radical players are flexing their testosteronal muscles, Ernie just says he is not sticking around for that crap. Ernie says stuff that needs said.
Ernie is the salt of the Earth and the pepper of the basketball court.
Next time, I’m going to write about the one word that you NEVER say around my Uncle Mike.
See you Wednesday.
