I was born into an athletic family as the middle child, and to my dismay the only girl. My grandfather played basketball at University of Illinois-Champagne, my father was a hockey player who played D1 in college, and my mother was a golfer who received a full ride D1 scholarship as well. My older brother was a sponsored skateboarder by age 14 and was also a ranked wrestler in high school. I followed in my grandfathers steps, I was born a basketball player.

Being an athlete was in my blood before I even left the womb. I picked up my first ball before I could walk, I idolized Michael Jordan more than my own parents. Basketball meant everything to me as a kid. When I turned 3 I was on my first recreational basketball team, at age 9 I joined my first travel team, and by age 11 I attended three Doug Bruno basketball camps. At age 13 I joined my first AAU team out of Chicago. I ate, breathed, slept basketball. I was raw talent, I was born talented, and that is what messed with my head. I thought I deserved to play, I had the mentality that I didn’t need to work as hard as all the other girls, because I was already being recognized at a young age of being the best.

When I was 14 I got the title of "un-coachable" and no one wanted to deal with me at the high school I was going to be attending. I thought I was already on Varsity, and I acted like it. I didn’t do drills at the camps because I saw them as petty work and I was above all of that. Then, my world got flipped up side down and we moved, which meant I had to switch schools. No one knew my past and the talent I had on this new team, and I had to prove myself, so for the first time in my basketball career I tried.

I tried my hardest and still didn’t make Varsity. I made JV, and as a 5’1 freshman, that wasn’t bad, but to me that wasn’t good enough. My sophomore year rolled around, and I still hadn’t made Varsity, I was again a starter on JV. My junior year rolled around and I finally made Varsity, but how many games did I play in? I can count them on one hand. For the first time in my life I was benched.

Wouldn’t you think this would’ve fueled my fire? To actually work my ass off and improve? Well it didn’t. I was resentful, pissed, and thought I was screwed over. I was born great, I was born an athlete. I got everything handed to me, and I didn’t have to work for anything. Like come on, you know who I am right? Wrong. My senior year came and went, and I played every game, but I was only average compared to everyone else. As a little girl my dream was to play at UCLA, or Depaul, or even Connecticut. Ask me where I play right now. Go on, ask. The answer? Nowhere.

I was a natural born, gifted athlete who thought I didn’t have to put in extra work, who thought I was above everyone. Well, let me tell you one thing and I need your ears to be open, so put aside your pride for five minutes and listen up: When I was little and a pre-teen I was the best. But slowly and surely the girls who were working their asses off passed me. They did circles around me because I thought I was too good for extra shots, too good for extra drills. I let the 13 year old girl with big dreams down, because I wouldn’t put in extra work. I could’ve been amazing, I could’ve been an outstanding basketball player with the natural born skill I had if I had worked for it. All I had to do was put in the work, and I didn’t.

So you think you were born great and you don’t need to put in extra work? Well, you are literally handing your starting jersey to the next person in line, you are screwing yourself over. You are basically letting the other team have an open shot. You might as well just quit now and save yourself embarrassment down the road. I don’t care who your parents are, I don’t care what your last name is. You aren’t handed anything. In sports, the best people play, no matter what age, height, weight, or who your daddy payed off. It’s the work you put in, it’s the passion and drive you put in every second of every practice, game, and training days.

I was a natural born athlete with big dreams and goals. Now, I watch the Northern Illinois University Women's Basketball team take the floor and someone else is wearing the number 21. I handed her that jersey. And the amount of regret weighing on my heart as I finish this up is gigantic, over loaded, disappointing, and sickening. I was a natural born athlete who forgot the meaning of work ethic, I am a natural born athlete filled with regret.

I was born into an athletic family as the middle child, and to my dismay the only girl. My grandfather played basketball at University of Illinois-Champagne, my father was a hockey player who played D1 in college, and my mother was a golfer who received a full ride D1 scholarship as well, and their only daughter is sitting on the side lines with no name on the front, only the one she thought was the most important on the back. My name doesn’t matter in the sports world and I am a regretful star athlete. I am on the sidelines when I should be on the starting line up, and the only person to blame is myself. I realized natural born athletes need to work their asses off ten times harder then everyone else four years too late.