It was about 6pm on a dark, winters evening. It was Saturday, and my family were planning to go out to the movies in a few hours when the front door bell rang. My youngest son bolted to answer the door, since the bell was usually a sign that someone was visiting my children. ‘Its for you, Dad,’ he prompted as he dropped back into his chair in front of the TV. He hadn’t invited my ‘guest’ in, and I had to reopen the door.

It was a former student, Kozi, who had graduated about 3 years earlier. He had been a quiet student who struggled in class, but had been a valued member of my basketball team for several years. He was quick, reliable and a very good ball handler.

‘Hi Noons.’ He smiled.

So much for my privacy, I thought. How did he find me? I invited him in and asked how he'd been travelling. He told me where he was working, what he’d been up to.

‘So, what can I do for you Matthew?’

‘Well, all the guys are home. It’s Joels 21^st. Howzer was there, Brendan is around, so’s Troy. We were talking about what reminded us most of Ballarat.’

I laughed. ‘The cold?’

He smiled. ‘Yeah, that was high up on the list.’

‘Then Howzer said Ballarat reminded him of playing basketball with Noons.’

I was flattered. It had been my honour to coach the senior basketball team for several years – and most of the players were just as obsessive about the game as I have been for most of my life.

‘Well, we were wondering if … ‘ and he paused, trying to find the right words. ‘… if you would come and play a scratch match with us?’

I’m sure my eyes must have lit up like spotlights. I had to ask permission from my family, but they all agreed it would be fine. They could hire a video.

I managed to contact Jazz, another former player who still lived in town and was working for someone I knew. By 7pm, we had 10 players, a key to the school gym and enthusiasm to burn. They let me choose the sides. Howzer had become a monolith – and he’d always been big. When he drove to the basket, I just stood back and let him roll through. I value my playing career too much to take a charge from a freight train with momentum! It was great to see how their games had grown along with their lives. Howzer still had a temper and called all the shots. Kozi could still wrap himself around anyone. Jazz was just Jazz. For all of us, outside shots, drives, passes, fakes – it all worked. After two hours, and too many games to keep track, I called it a draw. I was stuffed.

As we were cooling down, I got a chance to talk with them about what they’d been doing. Troy had shifted to Queensland. Howzer was in Melbourne. One of them was giving New Zealand a try. The world has become a small, small place.

As I was packing up, switching off lights, I got chatting to Howzer.

‘Your game hasn’t changed at all, Noons. You’re still hitting those damn threes.’

I laughed. ‘Your game hasn’t changed either. You’re still big!’

He smiled, and held out his hand. ‘Thanks for tonight. I mean it.’

I shook his hand. ‘It was my pleasure, Howz.’

‘You’re a good man, Noons.’

It is humbling when a grown adult, who you watched develop from the age of 15, tells you that you are a good person. It doesn’t get any better than that.

‘Thanks, Howz. I think you have grown into a good person too.’

I still receive emails from Howzer, and last week I saw Troy. I see Kozi and Jazz around town a couple of times a year. They aren’t my friends – but they are great people.