EDITOR’S PERSPECTIVE | BY JASON C. POWELL, ESQUIRE
Excuse Me, Counsel
“Mr. Powell, can you dunk a basketball?” “Yes, Your Honor.” “Counsel, please continue.”
I
I was in my early thirties and had been appointed by the Court of Chancery as the attorney ad litem for a young adult, to advocate for their best interests during a guardianship proceeding. Counsel for a party opposing the guardianship petition questioned my report and conclusions. During cross examination, counsel wanted to know why a worker at the group home sat in on my initial interview with my client. I explained how I thought that the aide’s presence would help lessen any anxiety that might come as my client met with me, a complete stranger, who stood six foot seven inches tall. At that point, the Vice Chancellor politely interrupted the cross examination to ask whether I could dunk. I leaned into the microphone and gave my answer while everyone waited for any follow-up questions, but none came. The Vice Chancellor directed counsel to proceed. I answered the judge’s question honestly that day. But, if the hearing happened today, I would not be able to respond the same way. At least not under oath. Because like so many of us, the pandemic has not been kind to my waistline, or my jump. I recently served as a Receiver in another Court of Chancery trial, and thought I might need to testify once again. While I doubted that I would ever
6
DSBA Bar Journal | www.dsba.org
have to comment under oath about my basketball skills again, I cannot help but smile when I remember that exchange in Court so many years ago. What does not bring a smile to my face is the reality that I face today on the basketball court. I am writing this column on my 49th birthday, a day which I also played basketball for only the second time since March 2020. Before the pandemic, I had not gone more than 2 or 3 days without playing basketball over the last 25 years of my life. At any given time, I played in up to three leagues or pick-up groups every week. I finally played in my first game two weeks ago, and it felt incredible. I was so thankful to be playing again, even though I was rusty and sloppy. The next few days proved to be somewhat painful, after using muscles that had not been tested for far too long. But even so, I couldn’t wait to play again. I wish I could say that I was that guy who was able to adapt to the pandemic and altered my exercise plan accordingly. That I did not have to worry about injury as I resumed basketball. That I didn’t miss a beat. In reality, I may have missed an entire symphony. The pounds quickly piled on. I meekly tried to bicycle or even (gasp) go for a run, but I could never get into any type of sustained program. Walking up stairs or bending over to pick up my takeout receipt came with new and unfortunate aches and pains. I probably worked too much and did not take enough time for myself or my family. Running down the basketball court in the sunlit gymnasium on those gleaming hardwood floors felt like a rebirth. Play-
© istockphoto.com/ Redshinestudio
“Excuse me, counsel. I have a question for Mr. Powell.”
n the history of Delaware trial testimony, I’m guessing this may have been the only time that a judge asked, and a witness confirmed — under oath — that he could dunk a basketball. I know because I was that witness, the aforementioned “Mr. Powell.”
