It was all a dream . . .

So I spent the afternoon watching Jordan commercials on Youtube. An afternoon well spent, I assure you.

As I watched these commercials a shadow of a vision crept into my mind. At first, the vision eluded my sight. A vision that could not be seen! "How could it be?" I wondered. Every time I turned to look, the vision went away. The vision's shadow was all that could be seen. Every time the vision eluded my sight, my desire to see it increased.

And then, like a Friday afternoon, it was there. It's presence was fleeting, but vivid. I will describe what I saw as best I can, although candidly, I feel my description will be inadequate.

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A son on his way home from college. A father, awaiting his son's arrival. The arrival. Son, brimming with newfound confidence, challenges father to a game of basketball. "I've been playing a lot more lately," son confesses. "Let's see what you've got," is father's only reply.

Son and father change into shorts and shoes.

Son feels it is his time. The first in a series of moments he was born to experience. His apotheosis.

Father, weary, tries to shake out the stiffness of too many winters in his joints. "Let's see what you've got," he tells himself.

The game. Son gets an early lead. "Transcend," he tells himself. Father does not worry. He lacks the confidence of youth, but he has the wisdom of age. "Transcend," he whispers.

Then, it happens. A breeze pushes father's jumpshot through the rim. "There you are," he thinks, as his old friend returns.

A few quick points and father takes the lead. Son begins to panic as his plans begin to unravel. "This was not how it was supposed to happen," flashes through son's mind.

Father hits another jumpshot. "Great D," he says, "I thought you had me on that one." A comment intended to reassure misses its mark and enhances Son's exasperation. Much like an engine, which takes time to warm up such that it runs at peak efficiency, Father's game revs. He feeds on son's now-suffocated fire.

"Show him what you've got," Father tells himself. And he does.

Thirty three points to son's eleven later, Father has had enough. Son had enough twenty points ago, but the shame of quitting before the old man would have been greater than the shame of losing.

"Good game," Father reassures son. "Now, let's go eat."
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And that was the image whose shadow haunted me. As it's presence was only temporary, I soon found myself a new activity to pursue . . .

Oh, and here's the Jordan commercial that inspired all this.