Friday, April 8, 2011

personal contact

Today's offering as I slowly, slowly clear out the basement (nothing as dramatic as yesterday's find: 156 pages of an unfinished novel that I'd completely forgotten about.   Before you get over-excited, I'll warn you that the title is "Derry: A Welsh Pony."   But it's not bad ... ). From roughly the same vintage comes Know the Game: Netball, produced by the All-England Netball Association, priced 2/6.

Ah, I did love playing netball ... I was never outstanding at it - good enough to make the under 14 and under 15 teams, if I tried very hard (and other people had sprained their ankles or were off sick, I suspect - I was one of those reserves on the sidelines desperately, desperately hoping that someone would fall over and graze their knee, or that someone would be playing so badly that I could have a chance to show quite how amazingly I could play ... ). I was either Goal Shooter or Goal Attack - the only two players on a team of seven who are allowed to shoot at the goal, and I would practice my shots in afternoon break, endlessly, and then at home in the evenings, using a rusty homemade netball post that my father welded together.   It's very curious now watching basketball (you can't bounce the ball in netball; can't run patting the ball down the court; can't - evidently - do much in the way of making contact with other players), because even though the rules are somewhat rougher and different, my muscle memory is still there - I still feel that my arms and shoulder knows how to get the ball through that hoop.   

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