The pickup games featured roughly 14 regulars. They ranged from 35 to 45, a group of middle-aged hoopers dribbling and defending in an attempt to ward off expanding midsections, achy backs and father time. They tipped off on Wednesday nights in suburban San Diego, descending to the red court with white lines and black keys and a view of rolling hills. They played five-on-five, full court, under the lights.
During the day, the participants worked as high school football and basketball coaches, helped run a college athletic department, sold insurance, filled out tax returns and operated a Sticky Chicken food truck. One man connected all of them, two years into his easy, comfortable, borderline idyllic “retirement,” the one that followed a lucrative, celebrated and regularly painful 13-year career. He had retired late, at least for his profession, and retired early, in his mid-30s. He did not struggle with the transition, nor lament what he left behind. “Loved every second of it,” he says.
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