I knew this was a bad idea.

When Mark Pope announced Media Madness, the invitation sounded innocent enough. Come to the Joe Craft Center, put on a uniform, play a little basketball, and interact with the Kentucky players.

What could go wrong, I asked.

Well, plenty.

I haven’t touched a basketball in three decades. Even when I did, I wasn’t particularly good. My competitive career ended somewhere around eighth-grade intramurals, although “career” may be stretching things. I couldn’t really jump or shoot. My handle was weak. I was small and I was slow.

Other than that, I had all the tools.

Still, somewhere inside every lifelong Kentucky basketball fan is the belief that he was one growth spurt, one lucky recruiting break, and perhaps two completely different parents away from playing for the Wildcats.

My growth spurt never came. Neither did the recruiting call.

Medicare did.

But on Thursday afternoon, more than half a century after I first dreamed about wearing Kentucky blue, I finally got my chance. I’m pretty sure I was one of only a couple of participants with a Medicare eligibility date on his scouting report.

To be fair, I’m in better physical condition than many people 30 years younger. Unfortunately, none of my daily workouts involves dribbling a basketball while another human being tries to steal it. I was fit, but my basketball skills remained in hospice care.

About 70 media members showed up in all sizes, shapes, and stages of athletic denial. There were young guys who looked as if they had been secretly training for weeks in hopes that Pope might discover an overlooked 30-something wing lurking in the Lexington media market. Others appeared to have prepared the same way I did—with compression socks, multiple knee braces, and an emergency contact.

We arrived early and were rewarded with a peek at Kentucky’s practice. That lasted until Pope became somewhat unhinged and kicked all of us out of the gym because we were too loud.

Imagine that. Seventy media members invited into a Kentucky basketball practice and somehow we couldn’t keep quiet. It was our first blown assignment of the afternoon.

Once Media Madness officially began, we were divided into teams and put through passing, dribbling, and shooting drills run by Kentucky coaches and players. Zoom Diallo drew the short straw and became coach of the green team.

Zoom did the best he could with what he had.

Unfortunately, what he had was us.

Coach Pope likes players who communicate, so I tried to do my part.

“Screen left!”

“Ball!”

“Anybody have some ibuprofen?”

My goals were modest. First, avoid injury. Second, scarf down any free refreshments like a true member of the working press. If time permitted, I planned to contribute to winning basketball.

That third goal became increasingly negotiable.

There is a sobering moment in every aging man’s life when his brain tells his body to make a move and his body asks whether the move is absolutely necessary. I saw openings. I recognized opportunities. I simply chose not to pursue them.

Basketball is also much faster at floor level than it looks from press row. From press row, I have excellent court vision. I routinely spot missed rotations, poor shot selection, and passing lanes that Division I athletes somehow fail to see.

On the court, I discovered that the passing lane I saw was actually Malachi Moreno’s leg.

My scouting report was brutally simple: Excellent cardiovascular fitness for his age. Questionable handle at any age. Undersized without the compensating quickness generally associated with being undersized. High basketball IQ that becomes considerably less useful when holding an actual basketball.

There were flashes, though. At least I remember flashes. Then again, those may have been my developing cataracts.

Once the competition started, the green team never had a chance. I would like to blame poor officiating, questionable seeding, or an institutional conspiracy against elderly Asian point guards. The truth was much simpler.

The other teams had players.

There was genuine physicality in the paint. Bodies collided. Rebounds were contested. A few media members competed as if Pope had a spare scholarship hidden beneath his quarter-zip.

Meanwhile, I tried to find open space and avoid becoming part of an orthopedic case study.

At one point I found myself standing on the same court where Kentucky practices, listening to Pope shout instructions, and trying to remember everything I had learned from decades of watching the game. Keep your head up. Move without the ball. Square your shoulders. Follow through.

Bend your knees.

That last one I could actually do. The YMCA deserves some credit.

For a few glorious moments, however, I was no longer a retired orthodontist with a media credential and an AARP card. I was a Kentucky basketball player. Granted, one who would have been immediately encouraged to enter the transfer portal, but a Kentucky basketball player nonetheless.

When the bodies were cleared and the competition ended, the last two teams standing were appropriately KSR and JMI. Even at Media Madness, the major media conglomerates apparently hoard all the talent.

KSR ultimately prevailed. Congratulations to the champions. Youth won the day.

Enjoy it while you can.

Come back in 30 years and let’s see how you do then.

The event also gave the real Wildcats a chance to interview us afterward. This seemed only fair. We’ve spent years asking players how they felt, what they saw on a particular play, and whether they thought the team “wanted it more.”

Now they could ask me what happened out there.

I had the standard answers ready.

I just tried to stay aggressive.

My teammates did a great job finding me.

We have to watch the film, get in the gym, and get better.

At this level, everybody can play.

Except, apparently, me.

Media Madness was humbling. It was exhilarating. It was proof that being in shape and being in basketball shape are two entirely different things—and neither one guarantees you can make an uncontested eight-footer.

But it was also a childhood dream arriving about 55 years late, after the recruiting services had stopped returning my calls and just before the early-bird dinner specials kicked in.

Thank you, Mark Pope. I finally made it onto the court with Kentucky basketball.

My eligibility is intact.

My dignity, however, is officially listed as day-to-day.

Dr. John Huang is a retired orthodontist, military veteran, and award-winning author. Currently serving as a columnist for Nolan Group Media, he invites readers to follow him on social media @KYHuangs. Explore his latest, Whining for Posterity, and all his books at Amazon.