This past Saturday, I took a trip back to the street I grew up on to hang out at my buddy Greg's parents' swimming pool (yeah, we maintain it, of course). It's always weird to head over there, because my parents moved out of that neighborhood four years ago and the house I grew up in has been completely destroyed to put up a monsterous mansion.
This past weekend's visit was very special, however, because visiting along with me was my brother, Glen, who is living with me and Amy for the next few weeks while he tries to find a place to live here in DC.
As we drove up Greg's driveway, we saw it standing there in the corner...taunting us. The basketball hoop. Back when we were both in high school (and before then), our neighborhood group would come here and play 3-on-3 or 21 for hours. Greg's family would always provide ample lemonade and Farley's fruit snacks for breaks in the game, and the rim could always be counted on to make even the hardest bank shot fall softly into the hoop. But that was over 10 years ago. 10 years!
But who says you can't go back to where you came from. Within moments of our arrival, I searched out Greg's basketball and an old school brother-on-brother, 1-on-1 game began. Glen's been trapped in New Jersey studying and going to school, so needless to say, his game's a bit off. Plus, despite him being older than me, he's about 5 inches shorter than me. A spirited game, but he was no match, as I won 11-4 and we came away with only minor injuries. 10 years!
However, the competition does not die there. My brother and I are 18 months apart in age, so most of our life consisted of needless competition and fighting. No "game" is friendly if there is a shot your brother might be able to one up you and hold that one up for you to see for hours. And I could see the basketball dispatching left Glen with something to prove. Enter the tennis court.
Yeah...we suck at tennis. It's not a game either of us played outside of the requisite tennis playing during PE through school. If we can keep a volley going for more than 4 hits, it is truly a victory for both of us, regardless of who hits it "in" last. But nonetheless, Greg has a court, so we must compete. We're brothers, we must.
After an hour and a half of underhand serves, balls hit out of the court, and repeated outbursts of profanity, we are deadlocked in our shittiness, 6-6. I'm not great with the rules of tennis, so we consult the others for the rules of the tiebreaker, and the sudden death begins.
Sadly, too many unforced (though, not unexpected) errors later, and Glen is standing as the victor, 7-6 (7-3) after a one set match. Yeah, I didn't think we would last a whole set either. 10 YEARS!!
It's nice to have my brother back in the area, and this trip down Memory (Saunders) Lane was like living an episode of Wonder Years. Has anyone else seen Winnie Cooper in the new Stuff magazine, BTW. Aaahhhh, 10 years.