I don't know why, but a couple of days ago while riding into work I started thinking about a high-school friend that I have neither seen nor spoken to in many, many years. It might have come up as I was thinking about basketball and why I'm no longer interested in it. Part of that is because of old injuries, part of it is time and part of it is because I just can't stand sitting and watching what now passes for the game.

It's funny how over the years you look back and long for days gone by--the days when you really didn't have responsibility, no 12 hour work days, just time and the challenge of coming up with ways to pass it. Back in the teenage years it was all about the dreams. The dreams were all about only a few things, girls and, by God, playing basketball.

Being a Freshman…

I think it was the fall of 1979 when my path crossed with Mike's. We were incoming freshmen at Lake Brantley High School in Altamonte Springs, Florida. I couldn't exactly say as to how our paths crossed other than we both were absolutely crazy about playing basketball. Maybe it was at tryouts for the freshman basketball team. Me, I had grown from 5-10 to 6-3 over the summer. I had been playing since I was 10, had a pretty good game and was well known to most of coaches and players. Mike was a scrawny guy, maybe 5-9 if he was lucky, around 150. A lefty who bounced all over the place and could run for days. He didn't necessarily have the game some of the others did---he wasn't as big or fast. But he could jump and shoot.

I'm not even sure what the conversation was that got things started, but we hit it off immediately. We both lived for the game of basketball. Me not being the incredibly outgoing type, I would talk about it if asked, but much like now, usually just kind of grinned and laughed. Mike, however would talk about the game at all times in all situations. For some reason, and remember this is in the pre-3 point line, very, very early Magic/Bird days, Mike adopted his favorite player's name. Not in the official sense, but seeing how most had nicknames at that point and time, he adopted the name himself, his favorite player, Kevin Grevey. Grevey was a left-handed shooting guard who had played college ball at the University of Kentucky. He had a modest game but was able to parlay it into a reasonably successful professional career spent mostly with the (then) Washington Bullets. I never really asked why he chose Grevey as his player of choice, but he did and that is what everyone called him.

It's All About the Talk…

It's funny how when you are a kid you have more time on your hands to do things you'll never have time for as an adult. For us, most of our time was spent, particularly in the summer at Sanlando Park, playing and talking basketball. At Sanlando, we could run all night, and usually did. 10, 11, 12am, we'd be playing ball down there as long as there were people to play. The Park wasn't a beautiful place, 2 tennis courts, a small playground and two full basketball courts with metal backboards and chain-link nets. When you are a kid who dreams of playing ball all day long, what could be better?

You never knew who would show up at the park, ready to play. Local College legend Bo Clark, former NBA player Stan Petkowicz, the tall Swedish twins (whose names I never knew, but they were both about 6-8 and could play all day long). The rules were simple streetball rules--you played until you lost and you called your own fouls. "Grevey" and I could play most of the day and over time, he always knew where to find me on the court and normally I could score.

In between games we'd talk, talk about the NBA and about the colleges. We'd talk about the new run-and-gun Lakers with Magic and the gang. We'd talk about Bird too, but the old favorites also made it in. George "Ice" Gervin, Bob McAdoo, David "Skywalker" Thompson and Dr. J.

We'd marvel at the moves, the scoring and the way they seemed to fly through the air. Yes, this was a time, pre- Jordan and for a while even pre-three point line, a time when you had to work to score, when the ball was passed and not everyone pulled up for a long jump-shot. Basketball when played correctly, at least back then, was true art. The way guys ran the fast break, keeping to their lanes, cutting on the hash mark to the basket. The way the ball was passed, 4,5 or 6 times before a shot, working it down low, moving without the ball, creating the open shot.

Surely we could do that and like anybody else who idolized the game, we tried. Most games, I would grab a rebound, look for "Grevey" cutting towards me, on the run, waiting for the outlet. I'd pass it, hit him on the run, and take off myself, full steam heading to the basket. If I got down fast enough, ran my lanes correctly, we'd make eye contact, just a quick look, a nod of my head, and up the ball went. He knew--throw it to a spot, I'd go and get it. Nobody could stop that play; we could spring it at any time, we were the only two who knew. We never talked much about it, just knew. My coach the following fall, hated it, it would drive him nuts. He was a "traditionalist," there wasn't any room in his game for showing off like that, but on the streetball courts of Sanlando, we, at least on that court, were unstoppable.

What ever happened?

I always have wondered what happened to Mike "Grevey" Lloyd. We kind of lost touch my last year in high school. I was one of the few in my class who went away to college and really never went home much after that. On the summers I did return, I worked or had stuff going on. Occasionally I would go down to Sanlando, run a game or two, but it was never the same. For that matter, basketball was never the same, either. Over the years I've played less and less and have quite honestly, lost interest in the game. It is not the game I grew up with-it's all about three point shooting and one-on one play. There is little order or effort put into it any more. Sure there are guys who play all-out every play all the time, but it just is not fun to watch. Perhaps part of it is my own cynicism--a distaste for overpriced and overpaid athletes who do what they do for the money rather than for the enjoyment of it.