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Legends League has veteran feel
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Photo
In this Jan. 7, 2011 photo, John Sugar goes up for an uncontested basket while playing a lunchtime pickup game at the Columbus Athletic Club in Columbus, Ohio. Slam-dunks are few and far between, but past-their-prime hoops players still know how to get down court, shoot - and challenge calls.
By JEFFREY SHEBAN
Columbus Dispatch
COLUMBUS
At 76, Warner Trautman is having a ball, traveling three days a week and courting old friends.
Trautman might be the oldest competitive basketball player in Columbus. On most Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, he can be found playing five-on-five pickup games at the Athletic Club of Columbus.
Youngsters are welcome, but most participants in the lunchtime games, which date back decades, are in their 40s and 50s. A lucky few soldier on beyond retirement age.
The gatherings — informally called the Legends League — have an old-school, playground feel, with opposing teams identified by shirts and skins and all officiating done by players.
Arguments are mandatory.
“It’s entertainment,” said lawyer Neil Rosenberg, 56, enjoying a heated discussion over a foul call while waiting his turn on the sidelines.
Several blocks from the private club, another group of aging jocks and backyard hoopsters meets at the Downtown YMCA. At 65, West Side retiree Edward Littlejohn reigns as the elder statesman there.
The Athletic Club basketball roster trends toward bankers, lawyers and real-estate developers; the more egalitarian Y attracts large numbers of public employees and other nonprofessional Downtown workers.
What all the players have in common — beyond sore joints and diminished skills — is a love of the game, a craving for companionship and a stubborn reluctance to yield to the process of aging.
“When you’re 12 or 13, you know nothing about pulling muscles,” said Littlejohn, who spends one hour stretching and lifting weights to prepare for court appearances.
“I plan to keep on playing until the good Lord takes these knees out.”
Trautman, an Upper Arlington resident who has had triple-bypass surgery and a heart-valve replacement, was drafted as a fill-in a dozen years ago while he was jogging around the elevated track surrounding the court.
“I told them my last basketball experience was a driveway shoot-around in 1951, but they didn’t care,” said Trautman, who plays in protective goggles and wears a mouthpiece.
Despite assessing his skills as marginal — “I can’t dribble or drive, but I can set picks, pass and rebound” — the fitness enthusiast is hooked on the sport for more than the benefits of exercise.
“When you’re doing this,” he explained, “you just kind of forget about other things.”
The sentiment is almost universal.
Full-court gymnasium basketball, the quintessential team sport in a world of personal trainers and individual exercise routines, is a tie that binds.
“I like the camaraderie we have here,” said Rosenberg, who plays as often as his aching back allows. “We like to call this our daily recess — it really takes you back.”
“It’s in your blood; you can’t help it,” observed Thomas “TJ” Joyce, a longtime player at the Y who put his age at “over 50.”
Although sidelined by rotator-cuff tears and glaucoma, the program director for the Ohio Department of Health shows up for every session to be around the game and heckle his buddies.
“We talk about our work and families,” he said, watching some recent action. “It’s not just about basketball.”
Dublin resident James Fletcher, 57, craves the interaction with friends and a chance to decompress.
“For me, this is mostly mental now,” the engineering manager for American Electric Power said between sessions at the Y. “I come here to get a break. I can forget about the workday when I’m over here.”
Still, men will be boys: Despite the talk of companionship and decompression, the action can get heated when competitive juices flow.
“We’ve had broken legs and knees taken out,” said Westerville resident Jerry Mapes, 44, a former tailback and flanker for Jim Tressel at Youngstown State University. Mapes, now in real estate and construction, plays at the Y.
Dan Rohletter, 51, a lawyer who belongs to the Athletic Club, describes himself as personable everywhere but on the court.
“I don’t try to hurt anyone, but I’m going to play hard,” said the Upper Arlington resident, who rarely cracks a smile during games. “I play to win.”
Lawyer Rick Brooks, at 6-foot-2, likes to mix it up with the big guys under the rim. Even at 66, he makes his presence felt by blocking shots and snatching rebounds.
For all the aging athletes, the physical toll can be steep.
Brooks has broken the tips of four fingers on his left hand and tapes each digit before games. Both knees are encased in neoprene supports.
“I wonder how long I can do this,” he acknowledged. “When my sneakers wear out, I ask myself whether I should get a new pair.”
Littlejohn said that players don’t last for decades by accident. The smart ones have learned to back down when tempers flare.
“There’s always going to be tense moments when you’re playing basketball,” he said, “but I’ve never had a fight here.
“I’m 65 years old. It would take me six months to heal.”