I laced up my shoes last weekend and stepped back onto a basketball court.
Not to watch.
Not to coach.
To play.
Now, I knew going in it might feel a little different than it used to. I learned that the hard way after coming out of retirement for a couple of tournaments last year.
And while I didn’t feel quite as out of step this time…
I wasn’t totally wrong.
I wasn’t as on point as I would have liked to be. It was one of those experiences where my mind knew exactly what to do — where to be, what pass to make, what position to get in for the rebound, how much extra on a shot when I got tired — but my body wasn’t always on the same page.
The recovery time felt a little longer.
Or maybe a lot longer… considering I’m writing this with a brand new knee ice pack I bought myself today.
And let’s just say… the next morning reminded me pretty quickly that I’m not 18 anymore.
But once the game started?
Something else kicked in.
The instincts were still there.
The competitiveness.
The awareness.
That feeling when the ball is in your hands and, for just a second, everything else fades away.
And it hit me pretty quickly…
That part of you never really leaves.
But what I didn’t expect was what would happen off the court.
Between games, I had the chance to sit and talk with some of the women playing in the older divisions — women in their 70s and 80s who are still showing up, still competing, still loving the game.
And their stories?
They stopped me in my tracks.
These are women who didn’t grow up with the same opportunities we had.
No travel ball.
No packed gyms.
No guarantees that they’d even have a team to play on.
Some of them told stories of playing half-court 3-on-3 — but only on offense or defense — because “too much running was dangerous for women.” Of being limited to local games while the men’s teams were flown to more “important” matchups. Of having to fight just to prove they were serious athletes.
They played anyway.
Not for exposure.
Not for scholarships.
Not for recognition.
Just for the love of the game.
And sitting there, listening to them, I realized something I hadn’t fully appreciated before.
The opportunities I had — the chance to play at Bryant, to compete as a Sugarbear at UCA, to experience basketball at a high level — those didn’t just happen.
Those opportunities were built.
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Listening to those women, that old saying hit differently: they crawled so I could run, and we ran so the young women playing today could sprint toward opportunities we never imagined.
Built by the blood, sweat, and determination of women who came before us.
Women who didn’t have what we had… but showed up anyway.
And now, here they are decades later…
Still playing.
Still competing.
Still proving that the game doesn’t have an expiration date.
And honestly?
That might have been the most powerful part of the entire weekend.
Because yes, I was there to play.
Yes, I was there to compete.
But I left with something bigger.
A reminder that sports aren’t just about a season.
They’re not just about your “prime.”
They’re not just about how long you play.
They’re about what the game gives you — and what stays with you long after the final buzzer.
The friendships.
The discipline.
The identity.
The part of you that still leans forward when a game gets close… even years later.
And maybe most importantly…
The understanding that once you’ve been an athlete, that part of you never really goes away.
It just evolves.
So whether you’re watching from the stands, coaching from the sidelines, or — every now and then — stepping back onto the court yourself…
Just know this:
The game may change.
Your role in it may change.
But the love for it?
That stays.
And that’s how the ball really bounces.
Read more from How the Ball Bounces with Bekka in the archives at www.mysaline.com/bounces.
About the author: Bekka Wilkerson is a lifelong lover of all things sports. Raised in a super athletic household it was no surprise when she too began to love sports at a young age. It seems like from the time she could walk she had a softball bat in her hands, but her true athletic passion came from all things Basketball. That love served her well as a Bryant High School Lady Hornet and ultimately earned her a full scholarship to play at the University of Central Arkansas – among many other adventures.
These days Bekka can be found running around Saline County with her husband, Speedy, or chasing one of her grandsons. She is also the Executive Director of The EMpact One Foundation, a Saline County Nonprofit Organization that helps young people stay connected to extracurricular activities through tuition assistance and equipment provisions.
Reach out to Bekka with questions and/or ideas about things you want to see in this column at [email protected] and learn more about The EMpact One Foundation at www.empactone.org.
