It was during my sophomore year. Winter. A cold junior varsity locker room was being used by the local church basketball teams for a tournament. Earlier in the year I’d had a locker in that room as part of the school football team. The locks securing the faded green cubicles now belonged to the players not skilled enough to make the varsity hoops squad.
My high school class ring was all bling. BHS, for Bountiful High School, stood out boldly on one side of a ruby stone. On the opposing side were the numerals ’71. It was gold and heavy and showy, and I liked it when it was new. But, the most durable feature of the ring didn’t come from the skillful hand of a jeweler. It came from church ball.
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