As the fantasy faded, I wondered why Zimmer called. Someone must have told him about my basketball career: high school star, a scholarship to Fairfield University. But who? My wife? Unlikely. One of those kids from the local recreation league? "That guy with the gray hair knows his stuff," I hear one say.
When I called Zimmer to accept I inquired why he had asked me.
"I heard about you."
"You did?" I clamored in anticipation.
"From a couple of sources."
"That kid that hangs around the court, tall and skinny, was he one?" I asked.
"No, no kid. The neighbors told me."
"Did they? The neighbors! Who?"
"Station wagon," said Zimmer.