At my gym, they have undergone a major remodeling project.  New workout studios, new locker rooms, new gym, you get the idea.  Well, they were raising money for the project by taking bids for the “First Basket” in the new gym.  Given my basketball skill level, I passed.

Last week, as I marched toward the locker room to prepare for a round on the treadmill, I saw a fun little sign outside the gym.  The sign read, “Open gym all day!  Come on in and shoot a basket.”  I was intrigued.  It would not be the “first” basket, but they were inviting me to check it out.  Alright, I’m game.

Walking in, I was a curious site.  I had come during lunchtime, so I was still wearing my business casual clothes and dress shoes.  Certainly not basketball attire, but as long as I did not mark up the new floor, I would be okay.  And new it was, indeed.  It had that welcoming smell of paint and flooring.  Sort of a “new gym” smell, if I have ever sniffed one (and now I have).

Grabbing a ball, I was alone in the gym.  The only onlooker was a man occasionally glancing through the second floor workout room’s glass windows that look down into the gym.  It was just me and the basket.  I placed my toes on the free throw line, took aim, fired, and…  air ball.  About two feet below the net.  Pitiful.  The man looking down from the workout room turned away.

I retrieved the ball from the base of the gym wall and I approached the basket for a gentle layup.  Thud.  Off the rim.

I got the ball and tried yet again.  Another miss.  This was officially sad.

After several more misses, I lined up, shot, and the ball went through the hoop.  2 points!  The man in the workout room, who now had his back to me, did not seem impressed.

Retrieving the ball and placing it back into its bin, I left the gym somewhat satisfied.  I could retire a winner.  My final shot went through the hoop.  Plus, I did not have to pay a dime to record the first “air ball” in the new gym.  It may not be a source of pride for me, but I’m certainly now part of history.