So long ago, I can’t remember when, I decided that I loved life and needed to share that feeling.

“Play Basketball at Shobert’s Palestra!”

We had a basketball court at our house. Dad put a rim on the wall above the garage doors and a post and rim opposite the first one, across the “turn around square” section of our driveway. It was maybe 12 or 15 paces from one rim to the other. Kid’s paces. It was Full Court Basketball. The only outdoor court in the neighborhood.

University of Pennsylvania, in Philadelphia has a gymnasium called “The Palestra.” All the “Big 5” Philadelphia college teams played there. Double headers on Wednesday nights.

I watched those games on a stool in our kitchen, on a little 8 by 8 inch TV. Mesmerized by my local basketball heros, playing on those 5 teams. Penn, Temple, Villanova, St Joe’s, and La Salle. Larry Canon. Billy and Bobby Melchioni. Johnny Baum. So many great players.

An idea came. “Play Basketball at Shobert’s Palestra!” We printed up signs and posted them all over Chalfont, my home town, and the kids came.

In my neighborhood, we played sports all year. We shoveled the snow off that court and played basketball in weather so cold the ball made a funny noise when we dribbled, because there was so much air pressure in it, necessary to make it bounce. I can hear it still. Old Leather Basketballs. Mittens on our hands. Ever shoot a basketball with a mitten on your hand? My right hand still has that memory. I can feel it now.

If I close my eyes, I could take that mittened shot and be 7 or 8 years old.

That homemade Palestra was the first time, I think I organized a bunch of my friends.

I have to do that.

That is who I am. The neighborhood quarterback.

At our house we had that court and a vacant lot next door for football and baseball. My dad was replacing windows all over our house in a regular basis, never complaining.

Our bathroom, the one we had, was in right-center of the baseball field. Crash. The garage door row of windows took a terrible beating. My parents never complained. Not once.

I played Football, Basketball, Baseball, and Volleyball in high school at Central Bucks. I later played football for 5 years at Temple University. Quarterback. For Wayne Hardin. Roger Staubach’s coach at the Naval Academy.

I called all the plays on the field in college. Most teams had stopped that practice by then. Coach Hardin believed it should be done by the Quarterback, on the field. He taught me the “game plan” each week and I was to execute that plan every Saturday afternoon. We played Delaware, Villanova, Connecticut, Pittsburgh, West Virginia and many other East Coast teams. Division One College Football. We won most of our games. Harden was a brilliant coach. He’s in the NCAA Hall of Fame. I’m in Temple’s Hall of Fame because of him and the great players he recruited.

OK. Back to the point. I loved my life and found joy in sharing that love. Playing and Coaching. Playing and coaching was my gift. Leading others to success was who I was.

It started in my neighborhood and then I copied the great coaches I played for over the years. My high school football coach, Mike Pettine, is in the Pennsylvania High School Hall of Fame. I was guided well. I copied everything those coaches did. And read coach’s books and went to camps and listened to great coaches coach.

I am happiest when I’m organizing something for others to enjoy. My dad started the fire and my God had already given me the gifts. Leadership and great eye/hand coordination.

This was very happy life. Alcohol almost destroyed it. Almost.

I forged ahead after I got sober. Directing High School Theater was next. I loved that. Practing with a group of kids or adults and creating a beautiful performance and EVERBODY WINS! How cool is that.

Getting together with a group of people, organizing and accomplishing or just creating something is why I’m on the planet.

I loved my life. We played a golf tournament one day in South Africa. The AA people against the NA people. We alcoholics killed them. Drug addicts don’t play much golf. Golf is an excuse for an alcoholic just to drink!

Anyway. Fun. I always had fun.

Then there was that day when the 9mm was pointed at my face.

My whole life changed. I lost the Joy. I began living in the fear. My struggle then was overcoming the PTSD that gun caused me.

Then came the TIA. Another Joy killer. My life Joy nearly died. I couldn’t find the fun anymore.

Last year, I sunk into my first real and serious depression. I have been fighting depression all my life. Medicated for the last 20 years, but it was never this bad.

I was so stuck. I had hit another bottom. I needed another Miracle. Like the Sobriety one.

I got one. Something changed in me. I saw the path out of the hole. I friend called and asked me to breakfast. Just out of the blue. The husband of one of my AA member friends.

Andy invited me to breakfast. At first I told him I couldn’t because I had something to do later that day. Not true. I called him back and said yes. I’ll come. We met the next day. We talked. About all kinds of guy stuff. It was easy talking to Andy.

The momentum started. I was moving forward again, not looking back. I found a counselor. Weekly appointments started. I visited all my doctors. Tests. Medication changes.

I’m getting better. Not quite right yet. Maybe this is the right now. I’ll take it.

On Sunday, I’ve organized my first thing in such a long time. A Sober Golf Tournament.

Finally. I’m getting a chance to help others have fun. That is my path out of the pit. Helping others. I knew it was the way, but I was afraid. My world wasn’t safe anymore. With the support of my friends and doctors, I see a safe world again.

All I saw was guns and stroke and the end. That is no way to live.

The way is Hiking, Cycling, just moving outdoors, and gathering sober friends for some fun. Everyone wants to have fun. Nobody wants to organize the fun.

I do. I’m back.

A.I.