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I’ve lived in Chicago for almost four years. There are a lot of things about the city that I have accepted and welcomed as a part of my life. There are others that I haven’t. The leading example is probably this: I still try to time my haircuts to coincide with trips to visit my parents in Iowa. Getting my haircut here is one of the things I should have adapted to doing by now. I know there are plenty of places in Chicago that could do a perfectly fine job with my hair, but for some reason, I prefer to get it done back home.
On my last visit there I was sitting in the barbershop, waiting for my turn, when this guy walks in and sits down next to me. I recognized him right away. I went to school with his two kids. As he settles into his chair, he looks over at me and says:
“Mike Holmes, right?”
I nodded yes, not at all sure where this was going to go, when he said:
“You still play basketball?”
Now, to understand why this is one of the best questions I have ever been asked, you have to consider a couple of things. First of all, I’m 27-years-old. The last time I seriously played basketball was in 1997. When I did, I was, at best, pretty good. Not really good. Just pretty good. Definitely not, playing at twenty-seven good. I have no idea where he came up with that question. It would only make sense for him to think that I still played, if he saw just one play from my high school career. Just one time when I was on the court and he looked over and saw me make a jump shot, and based upon that, he assumed I’d play in the NBA. That’s the only thing that would make sense. And that doesn’t make sense at all.
It was such an absurd question that I wanted to lie to him.
“Yep, I’m still playing basketball. I have yet to retire. I figure I have at least six more seasons in the league before I hang ‘em up. Yep, I still play basketball. Hometown hero Mike Holmes… the back-up shooting-guard for the Minnesota Timber Wolves. You might have lost track of me. I played over in Europe the last two seasons. But now I’m back… in the NBA. I had the day off so I thought I’d swing down to NE Iowa to get a trim here at Andy’s on Byron Ave. I hope I’m not waiting here much longer. I gotta get back to Minneapolis tonight. We leave early for a game tomorrow night in Boston… against the Celtics… in the NBA… the professional basketball… my job.”
That’s what I wanted to say. But since I handle being put on the spot so poorly, I just gave him some bullshit story about I how I sub for my buddy’s rec league team when they need me. Which isn’t a total lie. I have done that. Once. In ten years.
by Mike Holmes
02/05/2007
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May 10th, 2007 at 11:07 am
It would have been cool if you pulled a baseball out of your pocket and said, “Nah, I switched to baseball.” Then signed it, tossed it to him and said, “Keep it.” Then walked out of the barber shop without getting your hair cut, as you hear, “Hey aren’t you going to get your hair cut?” Then you say, “My purpose here is done.” Then you ride into the sunset.