In the sixth grade I asked my parents if it was OK for me to try out this sport called basketball. I was tall for my age and my parents let me go on this journey playing this sport. This was my first love and will always be, but like most first loves it ended, and it if you didn't figure that out by now then shame on you! Do I look like I made it to the NBA? Anyway, basketball to me was eating, breathing, and talking all about the game everyday. I was addicted so much so I would practice my shot like Kobe Bryant every night after school. I was far from Kobe but hey, a kid can dream right?
Junior high was a dream for me because I got to start for my team and play with my best friends, and it set up this huge dream I had that I was going to play in college one day and maybe just maybe go pro. In junior high, I never missed a practice, never sat the bench, I gave it my all so I could excel to that next level. Also, confession time: every time I made a bucket, I would look at Tia McCutchen to see if she was cheering for me. Sorry, Tia, had to share!
After our last season as junior high players, we all moved up to the high school to start preparing for the next level. This was overwhelming for a lot of us because everyone was bigger, faster, stronger. We were punching bags for these guys, and I went from the tallest kid to the team's punching bag. It was hard that summer but I knew I had to push on and keep going because I wasn't about to lose what I loved so dearly.
I started during the summer league for high school and it wasn't until later I found out the only reason I did was because the other guy wanted to quit but his Dad made sure his son played and got his starting spot. This was hard because I felt like all of my hard work just went away and this guy who obviously didn't love the game like I did was now the starting forward. Fast forward to the season of 10th grade and it was hell on Earth for me. I didn't get to play at all, I sat on the bench and just had the privilege of free water and a nice seat. Kids from school would come to the games and I would then soon be labeled as "left bench." This was the worst feeling knowing that my love for this game was getting trampled on by the political tone of the town I grew up in and being called a name that was a nightmare to me. I didn't let that stop me, I continued to work and would get the "pity" minutes when we were winning or losing.
As my career moved forward into 11th grade, I was wanting to do my best to actually get some playing time so I invested the time in order to be able to consider myself a player. Everyone kept getting taller and I stayed the same size, it seemed as if I was done growing so I had to work more for this now than ever. The season comes and here I am still sitting on the left bench, court side seats to my own hell while these guys get to play the game I love. I remember never playing that entire season until one of my best friend's and I got to go in together at the same time on our last game of the season, and later would be our final game. We were playing an all-boys school and were up a considerable amount, so why not send your two left bench guys in? We both shot our last shots that game and made them and won the game. Everything was going good and that night-- I didn't feel like a left bench player anymore.
Fast forward-- after varsity went to state, we then had these "meetings" determining if you would get to play or be a punching bag. Get ready, ladies and gentleman, because what you are about to read is kind of sad. Me and the team were lifting weights, talking, etc. My name was the first one called, I walked into the head coach's office, sat down, and it was like I was about to get sent off to some far away land the way these guys were acting. The coach looked at me and said these words that left me feeling numb inside. "Nate, you're a good kid but you aren't good enough to play for me. You will never play for varsity or even sit with the team. Do I make myself clear?" What do you do as a kid that just had his heart broken? I just nodded my head, walked into the locker room and got my things, then I went home. I was heartbroken at the fact that I would never be more than a punching bag for this team, no matter how hard I worked, it didn't matter. I told my parents to stop coming to games because I was so embarrassed at the fact that I wasn't really a player.
For the next four weeks, I never went to another practice, I accepted the fact that I will never be good enough to play the game of basketball for this team, I lost every ounce of faith I had in the game. I said goodbye to basketball by doing something by myself. A couple of days before I graduated high school, after a year of not going to a game, playing, or even looking at a basketball, I went into the gym alone, got a ball, and shot one last free throw. I sat the ball down after I made it and walked away knowing that the last thing I ever did at that gym was made a shot. I left you, basketball. I walked away knowing that ball wasn't life and that there were bigger things ahead of me. I left it behind knowing that it taught me a lesson and that was the fact I never gave up. I never stopped pushing. I was a basketball player, not a punching bag, or left bench, and I gave it my all.
Remember kids, never stop working for the things you want, and never ever give up. Even if it doesn't follow through like you may have hoped, the time you gave it meant something.
