[Hank 91]

That reminds me of a story. I coach middle school basketball, and I always used to teach my boys how to take a charge. This is a really difficult thing for a thirteen-year-old boy to do -- there are grown men in the NBA who can't do it. To alleviate their fears, I'd always choose the biggest guy on the team and demonstrate how to take a charge myself. You probably know a thirteen-year-old boy, so as you'd imagine, this isn't usually a big deal. A few years ago, however, I had a boy who was essentially a grown man -- six feet even, probably 180 pounds, with a full beard. He's a senior in high school now; I saw him the other day, and he looks exactly the same as he did back then.

So I showed them the stance, explained how you had to slide over and establish yourself in the path of the ball handler, and reminded them to protect themselves and not let their heads hit the floor. Then I said go.

When I have the kids run this drill, the ball handler is usually just as worried about the contact as the defender. It's actually hard to convince them to dribble through the defender. This boy, though, was a football player. I knew this, but still I stood my ground. He pounded the ball into the floor, then pounded his shoulder into my chest. I went airborn. I was still wearing my school clothes, so my sunglasses and pens flew out of my shirt pocket, my tie pointed up towards the ceiling, and I landed shoulder blades first. (By the way, I'm not small; I'm 6'3" and 200 pounds.) Also, I didn't remember the advice I had given about keeping my head up. It cracked solidly against the floor, and my vision was spotty when I got up. My elbow also took some of the punishment, and it hurt intermittently for more than two years.

Needless to say, it was the last charge I ever took.

[Hank 91]

That reminds me of a story. I coach middle school basketball, and I always used to teach my boys how to take a charge. This is a really difficult thing for a thirteen-year-old boy to do -- there are grown men in the NBA who can't do it. To alleviate their fears, I'd always choose the biggest guy on the team and demonstrate how to take a charge myself. You probably know a thirteen-year-old boy, so as you'd imagine, this isn't usually a big deal. A few years ago, however, I had a boy who was essentially a grown man -- six feet even, probably 180 pounds, with a full beard. He's a senior in high school now; I saw him the other day, and he looks exactly the same as he did back then.

So I showed them the stance, explained how you had to slide over and establish yourself in the path of the ball handler, and reminded them to protect themselves and not let their heads hit the floor. Then I said go.

When I have the kids run this drill, the ball handler is usually just as worried about the contact as the defender. It's actually hard to convince them to dribble through the defender. This boy, though, was a football player. I knew this, but still I stood my ground. He pounded the ball into the floor, then pounded his shoulder into my chest. I went airborn. I was still wearing my school clothes, so my sunglasses and pens flew out of my shirt pocket, my tie pointed up towards the ceiling, and I landed shoulder blades first. (By the way, I'm not small; I'm 6'3" and 200 pounds.) Also, I didn't remember the advice I had given about keeping my head up. It cracked solidly against the floor, and my vision was spotty when I got up. My elbow also took some of the punishment, and it hurt intermittently for more than two years.

Needless to say, it was the last charge I ever took.