There are so many snapshots across the years that can flood Elmer Anderson’s memory, especially these days, whenever his mind turns to his old friend, once more engaged in the fight of his life.

Here is one: Honesdale, Pa., summer 1982. Anderson, a lightning-quick guard from Brooklyn’s Boys & Girls High, is having a hell of a week at Five-Star Basketball Camp, but that class of ’83 is loaded with killer guards: Kenny Smith, Mark Jackson, Ken Hutchinson, Tommy Amaker, among others.

Anderson has spent the week doing everything in his power to attach eyes to his game. He has made the finals of the one-on-one tournament. His team made the finals of the elite level, what Five-Star calls “NBA.” On the last day, he waits to hear his name called for the All-Star Game that always closes the camp, an exhibition that draws a who’s-who of basketball coaches to the creaky courtside bleachers.

But his name isn’t called. Anderson, crushed, retreats to his cabin, feels tears burning his eyes, and is pondering his next move when suddenly he realizes he is not alone. In front of him is his backcourt partner at Boys, his teammate and friend, and he has an All-Star T-shirt in his hand and is handing it to Anderson.

“Elmer,” his friend Dwayne Washington says, “this is yours.”

Dwayne Washington — “Pearl” to the basketball world already, even at 18 — is only the most sought-after basketball player in the country. He has come to Honesdale with the rest of the Class of ’83 gunning for him, and he has been spectacular. He leaves grown men panting at his skills. He has dwarfed the competition, deep as it is. They can’t hold an All-Star Game here and not have Pearl play in it.

But Pearl isn’t going to play in it.

“This is your shirt,” Pearl tells Elmer. “Your spot in the game. You deserve it.”

Anderson tries to tell Washington, no, he can’t do that. All these coaches who have fallen over each other to praise him may change their minds if they think he’s an attitude problem. Then, Elmer remembers, “For the first time ever, I heard Dwayne curse.”

“Forget that,” is the modified version of what the Boys High point guard told his running mate. “You’re playing. I’ll tell them I’m hurt.”

All these years later, Elmer Anderson’s voice softens.

“He did that,” he says. “He did that for me. Always on the lookout for his teammates. Always looking to make the assist. Always. That was Pearl. That was Dwayne.”

Dwayne Washington already has fought off one brain tumor. Now there is another, and it has come back with a vengeance, and his old friends — there are too many to count, so much joy dished out over the years like so many no-look passes — fret for him, worry about him.

On April 9, his old high school wingman, Anderson, will run a benefit at Boys & Girls, four teams out of Anderson’s “I Got You” youth-basketball program filling the day with basketball, the day highlighted by a 3:30 ceremony in which Boys & Girls officially will retire Pearl’s old No. 31 jersey. General admission is $25, and VIP tickets are $50.

Few go back with Pearl as far as Elmer does — back to sophomore year at Boys when neither could crack the starting lineup and the coach, Paul Brown, kept Pearl in bubble wrap so as not to show up the upperclassmen.

“But even then,” Elmer says, “you could see he was magical. And as his teammate, you knew if you could keep up with him he’d get you the ball, and in the perfect place. Once he respected you, he kept feeding you. It was glorious.”

By their senior year, Boys was the best basketball show in the city. Pearl was averaging 36 a game and Elmer 30. They would stuff every gym they played in. Anderson remembers a game in Trenton that had to be delayed because so many people wanted Pearl’s autograph before the game.

“And he signed afterward, too,” he says, laughing. “For an hour.”

The old teammates played a couple of times in college, Pearl at Syracuse and Elmer at St. Bonaventure. The NBA career didn’t quite pan out as planned for Washington, but the memories of his brilliance sustained and the affection his friends felt for him was forever. This is why so many were so crushed by the news of the new tumor. And why so many want to help.

“He always could make you feel like you were in a different galaxy with him,” Elmer Anderson says, the years melting away but the bond between two old friends as thick as ever. “All we’re doing now is taking the opportunity to give him an assist.”

He pauses.

“If you think about it,” he says, “isn’t that the least we can do for him?”

Whack Back at Vac

Stewart Summers: Adam LaRoche brings his home-schooled kid every day to the locker room? He’s lucky he didn’t play for Billy Martin!

Vac: That definitely would have been an education beyond your standard book-learnin’.

Kevin Bryant: My daughter goes to Northeastern, and even though she’s no sports fan, she enjoys attending the annual Beanpot Hockey Tournament featuring Northeastern, Boston College, Boston University and Harvard. We sports fans are all still neighborhood kids at heart, and we all want to stack up ours against yours.

Vac: I was amazed — and delighted — at how much reaction my Gotham Four hoops column got this week. Let’s make this happen!

@crashcollucci: Coaches not fouling up three is malpractice. Making a 20-footer or make a free throw, then miss on purpose, then get a rebound, then make a shot.

@MikeVacc: Normally I agree with you. But then you see too many times players don’t know how to foul properly and wind up giving three free throws. I can understand why coaches are petrified of doing this.

Jerry Donner: Enjoyed your article about the LIU boycott of the 1936 Olympics. Should have been part of the story in the wonderful movie “Race.”

Vac: I’m forever surprised — and saddened — at how few people know that story.

Vac’s Whacks

My dad was the greatest man I’ve ever known. I idolized him. I treasured every day I had with him. And there is nothing I would have wanted to do less when I was 14 years old than go to work with him every day.

I suppose that after watching St. Bonaventure tank in the NIT, watching Syracuse stomp on Dayton, and watching Michigan State prove that it was right not to get a No. 1 seed, the chairman of the NCAA Selection Committee, Joe Castiglione, has moved from polishing off a few bottles of Cristal to lighting some big, fat Cuban cigars with hundred-dollar bills.

The Mets have created a trust fund for the children of Shannon Forde, who died recently after a long and courageous battle with breast cancer. If you would care to contribute, contact the Forde Children’s Fund, P.O Box 718, Little Ferry, NJ 07643.

I love watching basketball about as much as I enjoy anything. But sometimes it seems the games — pro and college both — are one extended timeout interspersed with occasional bursts of live action.