By David Mohimani
As we enter the West York gymnasium I see the old school style court and rims and much to my dismay I see the rock hard bench with which I’ll be sitting on for the next hour or so.
The only hardwood I’m gonna be on all night is the bench. I mean if I’m not going to play at least let me be comfortable. Once I finally got myself situated into a bearable position for the next hour, I had to slide down and found myself sitting on a screw in the wood. Awesome.
Sitting on real wood is a rarity for me. Most gyms have cushioned chairs, but Hempfield’s is the cream of the crop. It’s like putting my butt on a cloud. Penn Manor has decent chairs but they’re just not the same quality as Hempfield’s. It isn’t strange that I’m such a connoisseur of chairs/benches since I’ve been spending the whole season on them. The bench isn’t going to warm itself.
The worst part about sitting on the bench besides the embarrassment is when my 6’6 coach decides to stand in front of me. So for the rest of the game I had to crane my neck to either side just to see. Come on coach, at least let me watch the game. Seriously, I basically just feel like a cheerleader without pom poms.
About five minutes into the game I know if I’m gonna play or not. If we’re blowing the team out then I’ll get in, but if it’s 10 points or so, then I can expect to glue my rear to the chair.
People ask do you feel like you’re wasting my time?
Yes I do, I answer, every night from 6-9.
So why do I play? I’m not sure. I guess because I love it, I guess because I don’t want to quit the sport I’ve been playing since I was a toddler. I think the main reason is because I still hold a glimmer of hope that it will eventually pay off and I’ll get off the pine.