I've known you for a while now. It's amazing how much of an impact you once had on my life. In fact, in some ways you still do. Growing up, my whole life revolved around you. Everything I did was based on what time I had to see you. The experiences and memories that I've acquired while committing to you are times I will never forget. But at one point, it was time to say goodbye and leave you behind because now you're something I used to love.
You would think that introduction was meant for a human being. I used to love the game for so many reasons: the adrenaline rush when you're anticipating an exciting game, traveling to the middle of nowhere for an all-day tournament, hanging out with teammates in between games and, of course, just simply playing the game. It's a bittersweet feeling not having to hear "to the baseline!" or what we all dreaded the most, "suicides." Or the horrifying statement said by Coach, "Practice Saturday morning 9 a.m. to 11 a.m." The sigh throughout the team huddle, looking at everyone's reaction to what was just said is priceless. And my favorite, "Defensive slides, I'm putting five minutes on the clock, GO!" I can just see myself rolling my eyes as I'm dripping sweat.
"It's the little things" was one of the truest statements said repeatedly by one of my old coaches. Looking back, I didn't quite delve into the underlying meaning and significance of those words. Thinking and writing about it now makes me realize that those sprints because of a couple missed free-throws really all counted. When on defense, keeping your head on a swivel is so crucial because if you turn your head for two seconds, your opponent is getting a lay-up or a jump shot.
"It's the little things."
Getting to practice 10 to 15 minutes prior to the assigned time is time to mentally prepare yourself and leave any personal problems behind for the two hours you're practicing. If you're late, being frazzled isn't going to help you work hard.
"It's the little things."
If it wasn't for all of the rightfully deserved consequences for the lack of executing "the little things", I would have never learned the concept of working hard. It seemed so petrifying at the time to sprint back and forth, baseline to baseline, but it taught me that I can push if I really hustle. Trying to beat the fastest player on the team during a sprint is something I've accepted that I'll never conquer. In other words, this sport has taught me that there’s always going to be someone better, and that’s OK.
There’s a lot of great feelings in the world; however, I’ve learned that hearing the net swoosh after crushing a three-point shot is one of those greater feelings in life. I’ve learned that if there’s no pain then there’s no gain. You can’t just watch a loose ball roll on the court and let the other team have it. A couple bruises or scratches from diving for the ball is worth the possession. What’s even more worth it is knowing you took one for your team, and they can’t ask for anything more.
Well, I used to love this game. The game of basketball that is. I’ve met so many people along the way, I’ve learned life-long lessons and made countless memories. The blood, sweat, tears, knee bruises, and lengthy lectures from my dad and coach were all worth the ride. But all good things must end, and I had to say goodbye.
I just don’t love basketball anymore. I lost the feeling of that adrenaline rush right before a game. I stopped looking forward to practices and stopped wanting to improve. In all honesty, I just didn’t care anymore. I used to love you. It's just a feeling that I was in denial about for a while, and it took me a while to accept. Just because I don’t love you anymore doesn’t mean I’m not forever thankful for everything you gave me. You’ll always have a chunk of my heart. I didn’t even scratch the surface of what I could say about you, but you get the point. Picking up a basketball for the first time at three years old and putting it down after my last game of my senior year of high school is a time I’ll cherish forever.
