STILL HERE DOING WHAT IT DOES BEST

Post-game medication after a STILL HERE game, Pinnacle Fall League, 2009. Motion blurs are the result of the fact that we move so quickly even off the court. Also: because Brother Steve had the camera sitting unreliably on something that was either a calcified squid or a medieval marital aid. Left to right: Rob Wininger, Steve Meadows, a big fat guy, a short fat guy, Jon Steward.

Life, Death and Basketball

On Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009, Bob Schulte was buried by his family and friends. He was 49 and had fought off the unfathomable reach and grip of leukemia for three years.

It may seem, to some, that the details of Bob’s basketball skills are trivial at a time like this. It must be argued, however, that within the accumulation and interweave of countless small details, are the codes and keys and markers that are in fact the measure of a man’s life.

Bob’s offensive game was OK. He had a reasonably good mid-range shot, but his name will never be seen on the roster of heavy hitting scorers.

Where Bob was at his best was defense. Certain descriptors pop to mind.

“Bull dog.”

“Tenacious.”

“Glue.”

“White on rice.”

Although he was not a physically huge man, Bob kept himself in much better shape than most of us. His chest and legs were very strong and his stamina was great. That enabled him to guard almost anyone and do a good job. He did exactly that with significant vigor and determination. Anyone who was every defended by him lived those moments with Bob’s nose in their arm pits and his knees up their butts.

Here’s why all of that is so important.

To play good defense in basketball you have to WANT to play good defense in basketball. It’s an often thankless job. Scorers get the glory. Defenders, unless they are named Bill Russell, are most often forgotten. Furthermore, you can be a great defender and still appear to be a lousy defender. Some scorers are so gifted that they can’t be stopped --- they can only be slowed down. The man who causes a scorer whose game average is 40 points to score only 35 points has actually done his job well ---- but most of the world won’t see it that way.

So --- while audiences ooooo and ahhhhh at isolation plays that showcase the awesome offensive talents of basketball’s superstars --- there are still some old schoolers who fight it out minute-after-minute in the trenches --- pushing, shoving, spitting out the sweat from some fat guy’s flailing elbow --- and loving mostly every second of the effort.

That was Bob.

None of us who knew him is surprised that he beat back a very aggressive cancer for so long. Good defenders are never lazy people. Good defenders are more than willing to dig in for the long haul.

Nor is it surprising that Bob had an excellent work ethic. He had become a commander in the U.S. Navy at a young age. He did well in business. He and his wife Donna raised a great family. All of that requires work and considerable sweat-equity. Those of us who knew him as a guy who played balls-to-the-wall from start-to-finish, win-or-lose, look at the way he was off the basketball court and say: “Of course. We’d expect nothing less.”

Nor is it surprising that Bob was a good teammate. Great defenders, by nature, tend to be unselfish people. They seem to regard the ultimate good of the whole before the immediate gratification of the self. Their satisfaction is in doing what needs to be done regardless of who gets the credit and the parades.

The only thing about Bob that IS surprising, is the fact that he was a cheerful defender. Some great defenders are ---- how should it be said? --- less than nice. There are other words to define such defenders. Bob was not of the scowling, growling school of defense. He was truly one of the best of all ballplayers --- a man who can compete seriously, with complete exertion of all energies, but with a quick smile instead of a quick temper.

There were many people at Bob’s funeral and hopefully his son Kevin and daughter Erica will understand that this is a tangible indication of the large number of people who respected Bob and were proud to know him.

We also hope that they take some small comfort in knowing that, although there may be no video tapes nor photos nor records of the many pick-up games Bob played, within the memories of some old basketball players in and around Medina, Ohio, there are many happy moments, punctuated by the sounds of people who like each other playing a sport that is important to them.

In the light of those memories Bob will always be many things to us --- but foremost among them:

...an OK shooter...

...a tough defender...

...a good man.

STILL HERE JV --- SWEET MUSIC ON AND OFF THE BASKETBALL COURT

In addition to playing great basketball, some of our STILL HERE JV team are providing great DJ services for any type of party or event. Jory Wilder (left) and Jeremy Skinner (right) through their business NEW ARA PRODUCTIONS, are busy with jobs in the greater Akron area. Check out their website at: www.newaraproductions.com.

STILL HERE SENIOR OLYMPICS 2009

STILL HERE: THE NEXT GENERATION ARRIVES

The STILL HERE JV Team --- winners of the 2009 Olmstead Falls 3-on-3 Basketball Tournament, Open Age Division. From left to right: Alex Avery; Jeremy Skinner (son of Damon Skinner); Abram Bruner (son of Mark Bruner); Jory Wilder. Not shown in photo --- numerous proud biological and adopted fathers of the old generation of STILL HERE!

PASS US THE BALL ONCE IN AWHILE OR WE’LL SPEND YOUR INHERITANCE ON METAMUCIL!

Apart from the increasingly plump stomach that supposedly causes young women to think that an older man is prosperous and highly desirable as someone willing and able to buy Prada handbags and Jimmy Choo shoes, one of the few redeeming aspects of the twilight years as a male basketball player is being able to play on the same court alongside one’s own sons or daughters.

Some of the STILL HERE (CLASSIC GENERATION) have been fortunate enough to stay vertical and mobile long enough to do exactly that, and the pleasure of seeing the STILL HERE (NEW AND IMPROVED GENERATION) growing into good basketball players and even better human beings is truly rewarding to the maximum.

This past weekend STILL HERE fielded two squads in the Olmstead Falls 3-on-3 tournament in the Over 50 division. Participating were Damon Skinner, Bart Skinner, Paul Stallings and Pete Chabra on one team; Steve Meadows, Rick Burgess, Paul Wellener, and Mark Bruner on the second. Although we old men played hard and certainly got in our share of exercise, laughs and postgame beers (the usual), we basically had our collective asses handed to us (the usual) by a few sharpshooting teams.

Of greater importance than our losses, however, was the gratifying fact that a third STILL HERE team --- the STILL HERE JV --- also played at Olmstead Falls. Our junior varsity squad was comprised of Jeremy Skinner (son of Damon Skinner and nephew of Bart Skinner), Jeremy’s friends Jory Wilder and Alex Avery, plus Abram Bruner (son of either Mark Bruner or Bob Campbell, depending on whom you believe). We’re pleased to report that the young guys were able to do what the old guys couldn’t ---- they won the entire tournament in the open age division --- and did so convincingly, doing all those things we “mature” men no longer quite manage (running, jumping, shooting, breathing, being able to reach our own shoelaces)!

So ---- on behalf of all the old men of STILL HERE:

“Welcome to the team young guys! For years we’ve taken great pleasure in sharing time with all our brothers. We’re proud to now do the same with all our sons!”

P.S. We’ll try not to give you too much fatherly advice from the sidelines. You obviously do pretty damn well on your own!

P.S.S. We still think we’re faster, stronger and more handsome than the younger generation. Do us a favor and let us think so for a few more years!

STILL HERE:BETWEEN BEERS AND BASKETBALL

Click to enlarge

WE OLD GUYS MAY LOSE OUR VERTICAL LEAP --- BUT OUR HORIZONTAL GAME REMAINS STRONG!

THIS YEAR'S MOST DISTURBING --- YET ODDLY ROMANTIC PHOTO

For I'm called Little Buttercup -- dear Little Buttercup,
Though I could never tell why,
But still I'm called Buttercup -- poor little Buttercup,
Sweet Little Buttercup I!

OK ---- now YOU lead!

DELAYED STRESS FROM THE ‘NAM CAUSES STEVE TO THROW HIMSELF ON THE BALL IN A BRAVE YET DELUSIONAL EFFORT TO SAVE DAMON FROM “THAT BIG ORANGE GRENADE!"

STILL HERE LOSES HEARTBREAKER IN OVERTIME. HOT CHICKEN WINGS AND BEER MAKE LIFE AGAIN WORTH LIVING.

Dealing with the loss of a close game is like the memory of Suzy Dumplingbutt, the first girl every guy has been dumped by the day after a Boone’s Farm wine-soaked night of getting sooooooooo close to paradise in the back seat of Dad’s ‘69 Oldsmobile.

On one hand there is pride in having worked hard enough and smart enough to get a hickey the size of a mantra ray, pleasingly visible on the neck, to show off to less accomplished friends.

On the other hand, there is the lifelong dull pain of seeing Suzy wiggle off to the prom with Tad Musclenutz, captain of every team known to sports.

Although STILL HERE has been handed its collective rump (which is quite a large rump) in so many games for so many years that we handle defeat fairly well ---- our exit from this year’s tournament brought back the old familiar dull pain of loss.

We played so well.

Steve, Damon, Rock and Pops played some of their best ball in many moons, but every guy also contributed along the way.

We came back from about 10 points down to take the lead in the closing seconds of regulation play ---- only to be forced into overtime at the buzzer by a three-point shot heaved up by an opposing player who was falling backwards, sideways, had his eyes closed, was farting, fainting and saying prayers of desperation which, unfortunately, were answered by the deities of basketball.

In overtime we just ran out of gas. Basketball is a cruel mistress.

All that can be said is that we played with heart --- we played with true STILL HERE old-school spirit --- and we can live the rest of our lives knowing that somewhere in her trailor park squalor, Suzy Dumplingbutt-Musclenutz, with her fat, gin-drinking husband Tad (who needs to eat Viagra like popcorn) still thinks about us late at night and knows that maybe --- just maybe --- she made the wrong choice!

STILL HERE SOARS TO A VICTORY ON THE WINGS OF THE FALCON

Falcon war cries sounded throughout the gym as Eddie "The Falcon" Smith popped a smooth three pointer in a big victory by STILL HERE, effectively keeping us in the hunt for the tournament trophy. As miserably as we played during the first game, we played like hairy chested behemoths today, easily cruising to an important win.

Coming up big were Joe Rog whose hair-trigger three-point shooting was key. Steve "Vanilla Quake" Meadows, even with a big fat fluid-filled knee was a monster down low. Pops, yelling at himself like a crazed pirate, turned in a great self-motivated performance!

POPS GETS A FRIENDLY SQUEEZE ON THE JOHNSON. AN OLD STILL HERE TRADITION FOR A JOB WELL DONE

ROCK DISCOVERS THERE IS A SHOT OTHER THAN A THREE-POINTER

In his only non-three point shot of the tournament Rock Supan intrigues the crowd by shooting the ball up through the bottom of the net instead of over the top of the rim.

OK --- out of fairness to Rock he splashed five three-pointers in the first game. Our only bright spot, God help us --- that will only encourage him!

OPPOSING PLAYER BECOMES CONFUSED AND CREDITS D-REX FOR A TOUCHTOWN

FIRST GAME IS A SQUEAKER. STILL HERE COMES WITHIN 30 POINTS OF SENDING CONTEST INTO OVERTIME!

These two photos tell it all. The pain. The agony. The blur of defeat. In the final analysis we blame the scorekeeper for shorting us one bucket which would have made it a 28-point loss --- and Paul Liesem for refusing to draw up planned plays despite our begging and pleas. Even the wives in attendance would not look at us afterwards. Our children began calling guys on the other team "Dad." Even the beer afterwards tasted like bitter vetch and sour bile. Well --- OK --- the beer tasted just fine. We bounce back fast!

PROOF OF THE PREVIOUS POST. VANILLA QUAKE PACKS HIS GYM BAG WITH A CANOE AND AN IRISH RETRIEVER

WHY OLD MEN SHOULD NEVER CRITICIZE WOMEN FOR OVER-PACKING

Here is a universal truth about old guy basketball:

More sports injuries are caused by gym bags than by actually playing the game.

Here’s why.

The older a man gets the more he is aware of everything that can kill or main him. Therefore: the older a man gets the more inclined he is to overdoing the Boy Scout’s motto: “Be prepared.”

Put in more bucolic terms: the older a man gets the more crap he lugs around with him.

For example, we of STILL HERE have repeatedly been embarrassed by causing ourselves to be mistakenly identified as team packed for making a full assault on the north face of Mount Everest.

In warm months we are prone to actually hefting around huge coolers of cold water, ice packs, sun screen and chapstick. In the winter our duffels are crammed with hot water thermos jugs, heat packs, bear fat and chapstick. During any season the inventories include aspirin, ibuprofen (if the aspirin doesn’t work), morphine drips (you can’t be too careful), splints, knee braces, nut cups, ankle wrap, finger and wrist tape, head bands, artificial hair, birth certificates, lucky socks, lucky pennies, lucky chapstick, spare nut cup, energy bars (uppers), fruit rollups (downers), the occasional copy of JUGS, August 1972 (great year, great month --- check out Trixie VaVoom), original scent Ben Gay, Old Spice, odor eater shoe inserts, complete team uniform except for everything forgotten at home in the laundry hamper, loose change for beer, cell phone, car keys, Gatorade bottle with green fur growing on the inside --- and that’s only the stuff left over from last year’s tournament.

In short: young guys come equipped to play basketball.

Old guys come equipped to survive Armageddon.

STILL HERE --- A BASKETBALL TEAM WITH AN AVERAGE AGE AND AVERAGE MIDRIFF SIZE THAT MATCH!

It’s old man basketball time again.

On March 13-14 and (hopefully) 15, STILL HERE will be on the road with its team of relics to compete in the 50-55 year-old age bracket at the 2009 Buffalo Masters Basketball Tournament.

Of interest to statisticians, the average age of our team of eleven fossils is 53. That is EXACTLY the same average size of our waistbands. We have somehow achieved a remarkable harmony with the universe.

Our average height, by the way, is 6 feet even but there is suspicion afoot that some have lied about their vertical challenges. A quick glance at the squad suggests that we have recruited at least a few leprechauns.

The 2009 STILL HERE (BARELY HERE) TEAM consists of:

Damon “D-Rex” Skinner
Bart “WIlbur” Skinner
Rick Burgess
Paul “Pops” Stallings
Joe Rog
Eddie “The Falcon” Smith
Paul Liesem
Steve “Vanilla Quake” Meadows
John “JT” Takacs
Rock “Rock” Supan
Mark Bruner

You’ll notice that we have more nicknames than a mafia family.

This year’s official tour name is:

STILL HERE --- THE FALCON TAKES FLIGHT

This is in honor of Eddie “The Falcon” Smith’s efforts in 2008 when he played on despite having lost the ability to see in color. That was shortly after he also had lost complete sensation in one half of his butt. It is only fitting that his ability to rise again and take flight be recognized by his teammates.

We are very pleased to have Joe Rog and Paul Liesem join us this year. Both are smart, reliable basketball players. At least that’s what they tell us. Joe is a veteran of STILL HERE’s Iceland tournament and a vicious three point shooter. Paul is a veteran of some very productive STILL HERE beer drinking sessions and has a great mid-range shot.

The most uproariously funny suggestion so far, in fact, comes from Paul Liesem who, in all sincerity, suggested that we develop a few offensive plays for the tournament. Poor guy. STILL HERE hasn’t run a preplanned play since 2004 when Damon set a pick during the third quarter, then wheeled left to the concession stand for a hot dog and Pepsi. THAT was a preplanned play!