Everyone knows that one “old guy” who always seems to be at the gym. He dresses weird, wearing articles of clothing that have been outdated for decades. His hair is whiter than snow. He’s that one naked guy in the locker room. He looks like he hasn’t eaten a fruit or vegetable in years. He appears to be extremely un-athletic. But, somehow, someway, he makes every shot he takes. After the first few, you think to yourself, “He’s just getting lucky.” But then he makes more. Soon, he’s made 25 in a row. You look away, trying to act unimpressed. But you tell yourself you have to keep watching, to see just how many he can actually make. Eventually he’ll miss. He’ll stop for a minute or two to catch his breath, and then will start again. This time, he makes even more. A huge sweat stain covers nearly his entire torso and back. He stops again, this time to get a drink of water. After a quick break, he picks up right where he left off. By now, you’ve gotten bored of watching this old guy shoot, so you and your friends move to the other side of the gym and play your own game. Every time you look over, the net is swishing. “How does he do it,” you wonder. And then, out of nowhere, he asks if he can join your game. You’re a man short, so you have to say yes, despite not wanting this weird guy to play with you and your friends. Teams are divided up. You and the old guy are on different teams. Your teammates start joking about him, saying that there is no way he’ll be able to keep up with the fast-paced style of play. You start thinking. You tell yourself “God, I hope this guy doesn’t guard me.” There is no way you can win in the situation. If you score on the old guy, congratulations. You were quick enough to get past a man whose lateral movement is slower than that of a toddler. If you don’t score, you know your friends will never let you hear the end of it. “You couldn’t score on an old guy!” It’s game time. And, to your dismay, the old guy announces that he’ll be guarding you. You feel an immense amount of pressure now. The old guy’s team has the ball. You’re not sure if you should actually play defense on him. You decide not to, and he hits a jump shot in your face. Here come the jokes. On offense, you get passed the ball. With hopes of showing this old guy up, you shoot. Air ball. Your friends cannot stop laughing. You’re embarrassed, and you go the rest of the game without taking a shot, afraid you might mess up again. The old guy scores a few more baskets on you. After the game, you storm out of the gym. You go to the water fountain, trying to forget about what just happened. When you turn around, you see that the old guy is waiting behind you. You tell him “Good game,” and walk away. He stops you and tells you that he knows how you’re feeling. Years ago, he was in your shoes, getting shown up by another old guy. You ask him why he is always at the gym; shouldn’t he be at church or golfing or doing something that old people do? He says that he loves basketball, and that even though he might not be as athletic/nimble as he once was, he can still put the ball in the hoop. He doesn’t care if people judge him for his clothes or for his style of play. “If you’re doing something that you truly love, you’ll find that none of these things matter to you,” he says. He tells you that all of the things young people are concerned about are insignificant. You shake his hand, and go back to your friends. You play a few more games and leave. The old guy is still there when you leave; he’ll be there when you come back. He’ll be there until he cannot physically shoot the ball.
Be that old guy at the gym. The person who doesn’t care about what others think of him. The person who simply does what they love and makes the most of every day. The person who uses their God-given talents to their full potential. The person with an admirable work ethic. And the person who will never be too afraid to back down from a challenge…no matter how difficult.
