Bird on a wire

I'm up in the rec center rowing the erg to the rhythm of "Bird on a Wire" when I notice a couple of college students, a guy and a girl, down on the basketball court playing Horse. He's easily eight or ten inches taller but she's got a lot of spunk and an accurate layup, and it's clear that they've played this game before. They barely need to speak as they follow the rules we all understand. She takes a shot from behind the backboard: swish. He tries the same shot, but it rolls around the rim and bounces out. She shoots from the foul line: swish. He dribbles and shoots: air ball.

They shoot around a few times. I keep rowing. Jennifer Warnes sings:

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He called out to me, "Don't ask for so much."
And I saw a young woman leaning on her darkened door
She called out to me, "Why not ask for more?"

I wonder this week whether I've been asking for too much or too little. I'm asking for a chance to play the game in the broad daylight, to follow the rules as we all understand them, to take my turn and try my shots and do my best and then defer to my opponent in an orderly and reasonable manner.

The game goes on. She shoots. He shoots. She shoots. He misses. Game over. They laugh and walk away arm in arm.

After our game is over, can my colleagues and I walk away arm in arm? That's all I'm asking for. But am I asking too much--or too little?