The drill I speak of is also known as “wind sprints”. Some call them “ladders”. I call them evil! They were scheduled for the end of practice, when you are already physically worn out and mentally ready to hit the showers and go home. We all knew it was coming, just didn’t know how many we would be ordered to do.

Coach would blow his whistle and holler, “Everybody, on the line!”. Moans and groans would emanate through the gym. To the baseline we would assemble and take a deep breath in preparation. You didn’t just walk to the start position, you ran! Picture a basketball court as I describe the procedure of a “ladder”.

You start in a crouched position at either baseline. At the blow of the whistle, your job is to sprint as hard as you can to the nearest free throw line, bend down and touch it, then back to the baseline for another touch. Then it goes to the halfcourt line and back , then to the opposite free throw line and back and finally to the other end of the court’s baseline and all the way back to the other baseline. Quite often, the coach would announce a time goal that everyone had to beat or “you’ll run again!”. At the beginning of the season, he would cut us some slack on the time limit, but as the season wore on and our conditioning improved, that time frame became tighter. I am experiencing shortness of breath just writing about it!

The time limit could become a real obstacle for our group of hoopsters. Some of us were not as quick or strong as the others and always struggled to make it back over the line. More than once, someone (name withheld to protect his ego) would literally dive…vault their body through the air with hand outstretched in the ultimate sacrifice of body ... .to make the goal and thereby save the team from running yet another ladder. I can recall a teammate actually losing the contents of an almost empty stomach when the drill was completed.

These memories came flooding back to me as I was visiting and reminiscing with a former coach a few days ago. He sadistically smiled with satisfaction at the role he played in the torture of us. As a former basketball player himself, he knew the feeling well. I have teased him several times over the years, that if he is ever my physical therapy patient…I will get revenge!

I reached out to a couple of former teammates to test their memory. One of them always returns my call or text quickly while the other guy waits for days to acknowledge me. Not sure what that means, but I love them both anyway. I think it may be due to a grudge he holds against me for an extremely and exaggerated minor whiplash injury he incurred by bouncing his head off the shoulder of an opponent. For some reason he thinks I should have shouted out a warning that a screen was coming his way? When I got them on the phone, the first question I asked was, “I want to hear your immediate reaction to these three words: ON THE LINE!!”.

Both of my friends let out a laugh and moan of remembrance. We then rehearsed stories of those practice days and the agony of “ladders”. We talked about the large blue padded mats that were attached to the brick wall a few feet from the baselines. We talked about how we would use those mats for a landing spot or to lean against and catch our breath. We talked about the night our coach was in a particularly sour mood and we were the targets for what seemed like hours of non stop running. I reminded Steve about how he was egging the coach on, to make us run more, while I was begging him to stop before he killed us!

I know now that these drills of conditioning were necessary. Both for physical strength and mental toughness for when the game got close and the championships were ‘on the line’ themselves. Not unlike the conditioning drills of life, of parenting, of employment, of adulthood. These windsprints did not indeed kill us, but made us stronger. These ladders helped us win many games and a district championship in 1980 for the Preston High Indians! Bonds of lifetime friendships were born during those practices in the gym.

I knew my teammates had my back and I hope they knew I had theirs as well. I will always remember and love them. I will always answer their calls. And I would line up tomorrow on that baseline to run (more likely walk) a ladder with them. To my coaches and their dreaded whistles, and to my basketball teammates, near and far, I say…Thank you! JOB WELL DONE!!