Michael Staton prepares to make a shot in a game of HORSE with Jake Grove. Final score, Michael wins by three letters.

Jake Grove shoots and misses, losing a game of HORSE to Michael Staton by three letters.

Last week, Michael Staton and I took to the backyard for a rousing game of bocce ball. It was our way of showing that you don’t have to go far from home — or from civilization — to get outside and enjoy yourself.

After telling you the tale of the whooping I put on Mr. Staton, it also was revealed that we would be playing this weekly game of outdoor frivolity each week for the next month or more. Again, it’s just a way of getting us outside to enjoy the blazing heat of the day this summer.

And, last week, I said we would be playing a game of HORSE. How I wish I had never said that.

HORSE is a simple game where a player shoots a basketball. If that player makes his or her shot, the next player must make the same shot from the same spot. If this player makes it, play continues. If not, the player who misses gets an “H.” The first one to have all of the letters in HORSE, loses.

So I ran out, all excited to play some b-ball and kick Michael to the curb all over again. After all, I did play for the 1994 alumni championship team at my old high school and was pretty good. That was a long time ago.

I bought a ball at a local used sporting goods store, and we went to a court just off Concord Avenue between Main Street and Reed Road. I guess I should have worn shorts as well, because things went from bad to worse for this basketball player-turned-entertainment reporter.

Michael and I both started terribly, wondering if we would finish the game before it got dark (we started at 11:30 a.m.). He missed. I missed. He chased the ball, I chased the ball. It was a vicious cycle.

Finally, Michael hit a shot from about 8 feet. I was relieved and not at all worried. Then I missed. Michael hit another shot from the corner — and I missed. Suddenly it was H-O to nothing.

Michael sank another shot from the foul line, I missed and it was H-O-R to nothing. My nightmare was coming true.

I got my new nemesis a couple letters, but his lead was too great. Two more simple shots later and I was the HORSE and Michael was just a HO. And I told him so in my frustration.

By the end, it was a great time and one we forget about, not being kids anymore. But the outdoors are there to remind us exactly what we are missing.

For me, it was the skills I once possessed.

Tune in next week as Michael and I try to play croquet or disc golf.