Predict

Will playing basketball help Lubar fit in?

Eventually, I realized that football wasn’t my best sport. I discovered basketball. I hung around the playground after school, shooting baskets with anyone who’d let me play. Since it wasn’t always easy to convince others to allow me to join their game, what I really wanted was my own basketball. I begged my parents to get me one. I pleaded. But we didn’t have a lot of money, and sports equipment was far down the list of things to buy.

Finally, my mom told me she’d seen a special offer from StarKist. If she sent in a bunch of tuna labels and a couple of dollars, she could get me a Charlie the Tuna basketball. (I need to pause here and assure the readers that I am dead serious about this. There honest-to-goodness really was an offer for a Charlie the Tuna basketball. I have no clue what tuna and basketballs have in common, other than the fact that I’d rather not eat either of them raw. And, to tell the truth, as I dredge up these memories, I myself have a hard time believing this. But I swear all of it is true.)

So Mom sent away for it, and eventually my basketball arrived. It was round. It was rubber. It was brownish orange. And it was about two-thirds the size of every other basketball on the planet. Once again clueless, I dribbled it to the playground.

You could hear the laughter six blocks away. In the glorious tradition of guys everywhere, I was severely mocked for having something that wasn’t exactly like everyone else’s.

Today, small basketballs are cute. They’re hot. You can win them at carnivals. Sadly, that wasn’t the case back then. I guess I can’t blame Charlie the Tuna for keeping me out of the NBA. I’m 5’8” and can only make a shot when I’m not jumping. But still, every time I see a can of tuna, I shudder just a little.