Merry Christmas, 2005

To celebrate Christmas, I am sharing my Christmas Day columns, a tradition that started in 1996. Here is the 2005 version:

A Christmas story, circa 1971: His parents did a heck of a job. The kid was 10 years old, maybe 11, and still he believed in Santa Claus.
Still believed, even in sunny California, that old Saint Nick delivered the goodies on Christmas Eve.

Until the time, a couple of days before Christmas, he went outside and decided to check out his dad’s car trunk.

There sat all the toys. A bicycle. All the prizes Santa was supposed to bring.

“Dad’s Santa Claus,” said the boy.

A bubble was popped. An innocence was gone. On the basketball court, many a bubble would be popped by Byron Scott.

A Christmas story, circa 1999: Life at a military academy is different. Every day is the same. Even Christmas.

Rise at 5 a.m. Roll. Stand at attention. Breakfast at 5:47.

Students had received a pass a few days earlier to go home but had to be back on campus before Christmas Day.

The day’s highlight was just sitting around with fellow students, waiting to call home. There wasn’t much to do anyway, in the one stoplight town of Chatham, Va.

Funny, but it didn’t seem all that sad. Really, it was life preparation. Basketball would mean quite a few Christmases away from home for David West.

A Christmas story, circa 1988: With five sisters and a brother, you’ve got to share.

But it sure is tough when you’re asked to pass around Super Mario Brothers. A Nintendo from under the tree turned this Christmas into the best ever.

He didn’t even open the rest of his presents. Just hooked up the Nintendo and started playing. Played it all day long.

After Christmas Day, the Nintendo turned into community property. When someone put it down, someone else picked it up.

Not this day. The recipient had claim and played it all day. Soon enough, sharing would become mandatory for an NBA point guard like Speedy Claxton.