It's virtually vanished mainly because of the increased length and quickness of modern-day players, particularly as evidenced on defense. Because defenses are so much quicker to the ball than ever before, there isn't much space for that extra step the hook-shooter requires in preparation to his shot-launch. Also, since the ball is moved so far away from the shooter's body just before the release, it's liable to be slapped, tipped, or even stolen.

Jump hooks require less space and a quicker set-up and release, while providing more protection for the ball as well.

Travels with Charley

I chanced to be in New York for a book-signing gig the other day and made a detour over to the Museum of Modern Art to eyeball their latest Van Gogh exhibit. I enjoyed it tremendously; especially the way in which he experienced the powerful whirling energy of the heavenly bodies and then translated this into such brilliantly wrought images.

Which reminded me of a trip I took to Amsterdam back when I was still a hooper. My ex-wife and I were in the middle of a six-week-cheapo-Eurail-pass vacation and were temporarily traveling with another young couple from New York we had met on the train. It so happened that the guy, Brian, was also a hoop-head and, to the girls' dismay, we were more interested in discussing Earl Monroe than whatever cathedral, museum, tomb or monument we were exploring.

Well, we were in Amsterdam and dutifully headed for the world-famous Van Gogh Museum when, about a hundred yards from the museum's entrance, we came upon an outdoor basketball court! And there were two young Dutchmen playing one-on-one!

Even though Brian was wearing loafers and I was wearing open-toed sandals, we immediately asked them if they were interested in taking on the two of us. Of course they were.

But what about Van Gogh? The rare chance to personally experience the likes of Sunflowers and The Potato Eaters?

Yeah. OK. You two go on ahead and we'll catch up. ... Hit or miss for the ball?

Brian and I slipped and stumbled around on the concrete surface but managed to win the game — and all of the rematches. Needless to say, we had a great time. And even though we never got to the museum, we really didn't care.

After all, wasn't life merely a metaphor for basketball?

From where I am now, having been compelled to become a full-time civilian years ago, it's both interesting and amusing to note how just about everything that I used to value so dearly for so long has changed so drastically as I've aged.

So it is and/or will be with all of us.

Although I must confess this: That if my left hip wasn't aching and in need of a surgical replacement, if I was 10 pounds lighter and in better shape, if my arthritic fingers didn't throb in cold, wet weather — then I'd probably still choose the live game over the dead paintings.