Playing Ball with the Big Boys

How well I recall the games of my youth. My first love was basketball. I could play alone for hours while pretending that every shot I took was the last shot in the game before the clock ran out. It was for all-the-marbles in the national championship game. Adopting that view seemed to make me concentrate on every shot.

My boyhood view was delusional. I wasn’t in the national championship game and my shot, even if made, would not make a difference in the outcome of the game.

In the past few years, I have tried to deal in reality. It hasn’t been easy. In fantasy land hope springs eternal.

I recently paid a return visit to fantasy land. I entered the polling place convinced that my vote and those of millions of others would count and matter. As all the “votes” were counted, I was forced to return to reality and watch as the clock ran out.  

In basketball season, the BIG BOYS win. That is also true in political season. Back to reality!   

Personal Note: I should have seen this one coming when, over the internet, four separate invitations came in from Pennsylvania seeking my mail-in vote. I have moved around to other states and settled in North Carolina in 1989. I was born in West Virginia but did live in PA as a youth. I had never registered to vote there and left in 1965. How did they even find me?  

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