September 9, 2004
Throwing Down the Gauntlet
Fact: I am a 26-year-old, 5-foot-11, reasonably athletic white guy with a history of debilitating ankle sprains that have undoubtedly affected my leaping ability in an adverse manner.
Fact: before I leave this earth, I plan to be able to dunk a basketball on a 10-foot goal.
Now, if you can cease your guffawing for just a moment, think about it -- is there any more noble pursuit for the recreational athlete than the successful slam dunk? Sure, you can always polish your jumper, improve your erratic two-handed backhand or work to increase the velocity and movement on your arsenal of underhanded softball pitches, but in my mind, nothing could match the unparalleled glory of coming down the wing on a fast break, and when everyone in the gym is expecting some dinky little lay-up where maybe you slap glass, suddenly you explode towards the rim and throw down a monster. Hell, even bricking a dunk attempt would be pretty damn sweet in my book. But throwing one down for real? Pardon the expression, but...priceless.
I understand that this won't be easy. First of all, you need size, for the simple reason that the further you are away from the rim, the higher you have to jump. But perhaps just as important is the coordination factor. In high school, I knew a kid named Ollie Teele who, while standing about 6-foot-7 and gifted with reasonably good leaping ability, had some problems with his coordination. I recall vividly the time he broke his wrist on the rim trying to dunk because he was too high above the rim and couldn't control himself. If only I had that problem. The fact is, I'm all set in the coordination department. It's the all-important vertical leap where I'm lacking. And I've tried to remedy this before. A couple of years ago I enrolled myself in a mail-order program called "Air Alert II" -- if you're a sports buff perhaps you've seen ads for it in the back of various magazines. The program consists of a rigorous set of exercises which are to be done on an almost daily basis. Now, throughout my life, I have had a problem of not practicing things enough -- I was the guy who would show up at piano lessons not having even glanced at the keys since the last week's lesson, which created much anxiety, not to mention some severely cacaphonic sounds. But with Air Alert II, I was disciplined. I followed the exercises almost to a T. If it wasn't to a T, it was to an S, let's put it that way. After the eight or so weeks of exercises, things had noticably changed, but not exactly how I'd hoped. All of the working out had undoubtedly improved my quickness, but my vertical leap appeared to be about the same. Needless to say, you won't find my name attached to one of those ridiculous testimonials that says, "Before I used Air Alert, I couldn't even touch the net. Now I can dunk with my feet!"
So my dream of dunking was, temporarily, deferred. But this summer, for whatever reason, I have developed a renewed sense of purpose, and urgency. As I creep closer to 30, I realize that the time is now for me to try to join recreational sports' most elite club.
I realize that the odds are against me. But I think it's that challenge that drives me. Now all I need is a new strategy. And I think I've got it. Remember those plyometric shoes famously worn by Cosmo Kramer on Seinfeld? ("The muscle has to grow...or die," Kramer explains.) Of course, the clear drawback to plyometric shoes is that they look absolutely ridiculous -- on that episode of Seinfeld, Kramer is mistaken for a mentally challenged individual because of the shoes.
But I won't be deterred by such trivial matters. To avoid being seen in my ridiculous plyometric shoes, I will train in my apartment building, at night. Like some sort of bizarre nocturnal cross-training vampire, I will jump rope, climb stairs, and walk the shadows in my silly-looking platform shoes until I emerge a jumping machine.
Laugh at me all you want. If I come up short of my stated goal, I'll laugh at myself with you. But if I succeed?
Well, obviously, I'm going to dunk on your head.
-Matt Stroup Copyright ©2004 instant-replays.com
