TUPATALK: A challenge game — both on the court and in life

Impressed by the impact of my fellow Weber State graduate Damian Lillard on the sports world (although I graduated before he was born), I’ve periodically the past few days recalled some of my sports experiences at college.

In my last plunge into the subject, I mentioned the impact that incoming Wildcat football coach Mike Price had on my college experience.

Another rather unique story — but one that also touches deeply my sadness bone — involved a basketball challenge match, the Dorm guys vs. the guys from my church in Ogden, Utah.

I lived in town (with my mom and sister) and commuted to college, so my educational ordeal didn’t match that of the students who lived on campus and spent most their time there. Plus, the thousands of we Ogden residents naturally had more of a feel for the community than the out-of-towners or out-of-staters.

More TupaTalk:Weber State memories

Anyway, I needed a combination of a Pell grant and student-work studies money in order to start college and remain my first couple of years, until I obtained a full-time job.

My student-work study job was as a ticket-taker Friday and Saturday evenings at the movie theater in the Union building.

That tells you something right there about my exhaustive social life (Not!). (I occasionally took a night off for a date with a beautiful co-ed — with an emphasis on occasionally.)

Anyway three of us were assigned to the weekend theater gig. We’d alternate between selling tickets, keeping an eye inside the theater during the films and what all else I don’t remember.

I and the guys got talking about playing basketball.

And, the more we talked, the greater the emotional thermometer rose — not in anger but in guy temperature.

It all led to a challenge match — between a team of guys in the dorm against a team of guys I played every week at my church house of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

My co-workers and I decided the best location would be the church gym.

It didn’t take much effort on my part in getting a team together. Those guys loved a challenge. I knew that from our Saturday morning pick-up games — which sometimes resembled a war zone, although most the time remained pretty much under control.

Anyway, on the appointed night, the college guys were able to follow my directions to the church gym. But, they padded their team a little bit by bringing some school athletes. I recall a big, burly but athletic football player.

During the game, he ran past the end line and rammed his head into the upper panel of a wood door along the wall. The door got the worst of it.

In addition, our challenge battle attracted a nice-sized audience, including some kids from the college campus and family members from our host team.

To get it out of the way, I didn’t play a whole lot. My speciality was defense — and any resemblance to the up-and-down action of this game and defense was purely accidental.

It was all-out sprinting up and down the court, the floorboards grunting from the burning shoes and the baskets smoking.

I believe the college guys won — but our team, made up mostly of married guys in their mid-to-late 20s, or single guys in their 20s competed respectfully.

The main reason was our star shooter, an affable single guy who just snapped the cords on a storm of three-pointers that seemed to never miss.

I enjoyed the experience, especially being the interface to getting some of the college guys a community experience.

A couple of years later, I enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps for four years of active duty.

I recall playing the weekly pick-up games every Saturday I stayed in town up until my departure to boot camp.

Four years later, I returned to Ogden. On my first Saturday back, I walked down to the gym and played with the same guys.

It was almost as if there had been a time blip; the four years seemed to disappear in a beat of my heart.

But, I noticed our trey bomber from the challenge game wasn’t there.

I asked about him. They told me he recently had committed suicide in a motel room in Salt Lake City.

The shock shook my heart. This kid had seemed to be one of the nicest, most mannerly guys you’d ever hope to meet.

There was no use reflecting on what happened — no one but our friend and his aching heart that led to that terrible decision could know ‘why’ for sure.

I reflected on the energy and fun of that college vs. church guys night in light of the tragedy a few years later.

Perhaps I realized with new understanding life’s experience is a derivative of both the sweet and the grievous. Both are real, but there’s no reason to dwell too much on either, but to keep pushing forward in search of that brand of happiness found in a content and wise heart, faith in something superseding the vicissitudes of our mortal condition and an appreciation and goodwill for others.

This article originally appeared on Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise: TupaTalk column