Give me a few minutes. I'm sorry, but everything has to be perfect. I think I'll go with my all-black-and-white Nike outfit: the long-sleeve training shirt, the Dri-Fit shorts, some thick socks and the 2015 HyperRevs. I'll ditch the glasses and replace them with contact lenses. My large duffle bag contains my favorite Spalding basketball, my Gillette deodorant, a lemon-lime Gatorade, a pack of Gatorade Chews and my black studio Beats.

Five minutes later I park my 300 in Nativity Jesuit Academy's tiny parking lot. Vivid memories pour into my mind as I make my way towards the Todd Weir Gymnasium. This is where it all started. This is where a bond was born.

It's Wednesday. It's around 3:30 p.m., but all I can think about is the amount of homework I have to do. I have math, reading, religion and Spanish, but here I am. Me and the other sixth graders have to participate in basketball drills to satisfy the extracurricular activity requirements all Nativity students must meet. School ended a half-hour ago, yet we can't go home until 6:00 p.m.

We are split into two teams. Half of the sixth graders at one hoop, and the rest on the other. At each end, there are two lines, one behind the baseline and the other at the three-point line. The first person in line from the baseline will pass the ball to the three-point shooter. It must be a perfect chest-pass, and the shooter's shot must already be in the air before one second passes. The passer will follow his pass and join the back of the shooting line. The shooter must follow his shot, grab the rebound and pass to the next passer. Whichever team makes five three-pointers first wins. It is a simple catch-and-shoot drill.

I am first in line and I shoot. It's an air ball and everyone laughs at me. Someone from the other teams yells, "You suck, Alexis!" By the time I get the front of the line again, the score is even at four apiece. I remember what I heard earlier and yell out, "Watch this!" I catch the pass and I hit nothing but net. Basketball, my name is Alexis and it is a pleasure to meet you.

I'm finally here! I'm not ready yet, though. I'm in my sweats, so let me change. You know me: I take my time in the locker room. The pregame is just as important as the game itself. I'll treat it like one of my middle school games.

As I tighten the laces on my shoes, and glance at the basketball sitting by the door. I briefly reflect on the memories you and I have shared. I certainly wasn't as good as I've become today, but my passion has not changed. It never will.

The eight grade team is playing extremely well. We have won all but two games in the season so far. In the last game I had my best game of the year. I scored a career-high seven points and grabbed five rebounds. My coach was so proud of me he named me a starter. I let that sink in for just a moment as I walk with the team out of the corridor. It's tournament time, and we play St. Mathias in the title game. In a few minutes we will be battling for first place, and I get to start!

I have certainly come a long way. I feel like I was just in sixth grade two years ago; I still remember when I didn't know how to shoot fundamentally or dribble the basketball without looking down. Basketball, you are, without a doubt, the greatest sport in the world. I will show you the heart I have for you today.

I'm ready. You know how I like my stage to be set: only two lights on, my Beats on my head and my Gatorade in the corner. I take a few behind-the-back dribbles and step up to the free throw line. Ten free throws, and I will start all over if I don't make all of them. I have to be 10-10. As usual, I miss the very first free throw. I still wonder how good I could be now if I joined the Dominican High School basketball team five years ago. I remember the relationship between we quickly developed was tainted by my sudden change in demeanor in high school.

The tryouts for the freshman basketball team were yesterday. I had plenty of fun, but I can't help feeling uneasy. These guys are already friends. They are having the time of their lives, and you provide the perfect atmosphere for them to enjoy themselves. But I, the quietest kid of the bunch, was just there. I don't know these people, and they know how to ball out there. Coach told us we all made the team, but I quit.

Everyone is asking me why I'm not playing basketball. I lied and said I was playing for a YMCA team. I don't know if they believe it, but they have sure as hell left me alone now. The truth is, though, I don't care. What if they mad fun of me? What if they yelled at me whenever I missed a shot or turned the ball over. This isn't middle school; there would be hundreds of people watching me from the stands. They would be watching me fail. No, I can't do it. I'm too scared.

I have to relax. If I were in a game, with many people watching and cheering and booing, I could not afford to distract myself. It's all a mentality. Besides, I never want what went down at Salam in eighth grade to occur again.

Salam has historically dominated the league with their skilled players and their coach's emphasis on ball movement. No matter what, though, they are always in for an epic battle when they play Nativity.

In the time I've played basketball with the Lobos, Salam has always gotten the better of us. They always seem to make the right plays in the clutch moments, and we consistently crumble under the pressure. That is, until today.

We are in the second quarter and we have dominated them so far. We are up by twelve as the halftime break approaches. I'm in the game, getting ready to shoot three free throws. I was fouled on a layup attempt, and the kid who committed the foul was given a technical for bickering with the referee.

Normally, I would spin the ball the ball in mid air and let it hit the floor. It'll come back to me and I'll take three slow dribbles. I spin the ball again in my hand and find the grip I want. My right foot is half a few inches ahead of the left. I slowly bend my knees slowly and follow through.

I'm nervous. We are at Salam and the students are determined to yell anything at me to intimidate or distract me. It worked; I forgot to bend my knees at all and I shoot quickly, so I hit the front iron. The crowd explodes and now I'm mortified. This time my knees are shaking and my feet aren't balanced so I barely graze the rim. At this point I want to just get the third shot over with, so I simply take three dribbles and shoot. This one doesn't even hit rim; it smashes the bottom left corner of the white square on the backboard. It was a fundamental brick.

We eventually won the game, but I hated the way I lost my composure in the moment. I ended up scoreless and frustrated, and my coach did not appreciate the body language I displayed.

I have to remember that the only thing that matters is the free throw, and nothing else.

There we go. 10-10. Now the objective is to make five straight threes five different times from five different spots. I will shoot five straight from each corner, five from each elbow, and five from the top of the key. I will make my way from one corner to the other, and I am not to move on to the next spot until I make five in a row.

I smile as the song "The Man" by Aloe Blacc comes on. It reminds me of how you helped me survive high school. It reminds me of Kairos XII, when my lack of self-confidence was finally overcome by love and friendship.

Me and nine other seniors are leading Kairos XII, and I could not be prouder of myself. I just finished going through my talk, and everyone finally knows why I didn't play basketball. My fellows seniors and half the junior class now understand my fear, and they are willing to help me conquer it. I could not love them any more for that.

It's crazy to say, but you forgave me for staying away from the court. You helped me realize that fear was only an obstacle because I allowed it to be. Thank you.

To this day, my single biggest regret is not joining the Dominican basketball team. Not only did the team go on to win five straight state titles, but the players are extremely close. I wonder what my life would be like if I had such close friends in my life...

Oh, I'm sorry. It's true; I have a beautiful life already, and I have to appreciate that. Thank you. I still forget that. After all, you did give me a chance during the senior-faculty basketball team in my senior year.

It's finally my chance. The seniors are getting crushed. There are five minutes left in the first half and I have not entered the game until this point. I'm not going to lie: I'm really nervous. Everyone in the school is watching. My legs are shaking and I have never felt my heart beat so fast. It's the only thing I can hear. I take a deep breath, anxious to make a shot to calm myself and settle down.

With three minutes left, I get the ball in the left corner. One of my teachers has given me enough room to dribble with my left hand. There is a narrow lane to the basket, so I take it. I drive, but there is a defender waiting for me. I can't go up and simply lay the ball in; he's a foot taller than me. Instead, I fake like I'm attempting a layup, bring the ball down to my right hip midair, and my momentum takes me to the other side of the basket. There is no resistance here, so I bring the ball up again and bank it home, all in one motion. I smile. The students section erupts and the other seniors chant my nickname, "2K! 2K! 2K!"

Okay, now that I'm done with that, I'll hit five straight again. This time, though, I will shoot once from each spot. I will go from one corner to the other. I finish quickly because I have developed a nice shooting rhythm.

Now I will have some fun and take two or three steps behind the arc and fire away from deep. You and I are having so much fun together. I had almost forgotten what this feeling is like. It's just you an me and nothing to interrupt us. Me coaching the seventh graders reminded me of how special these moments with you are.

I sit quietly in my car on a snowy Sunday afternoon, and I can't stop grinning like an idiot. Today was the last game for the Nativity's seventh graders, and they showed me an effort I can be proud of. Many of the school's staff came up to me and congratulated me. This is the first time I coached a basketball team. They have only won one game all season, and now I can proudly say that they have accomplished a second, satisfying victory.

I have been an assistant of sorts under the official head coach of the team all season. He is now on maternity leave, and he has handed me the team for the first time. I am honored and privileged, and I hope nothing but the best for his family.

The guys responded to their 19-year-old interim coach. One of them begged me to come back for the following season, and I couldn't help but smile. You truly are amazing. The willingness of these children to continue playing is a true representation of how special you are. The have seen my love for you, and they want to discover a similar bond with you.

Basketball, you have taught me so much. I learned to love others than my family when I was a student at Nativity. I learned to never turn away from those who love me when I was in high school. I learned to conquer my fears when I am most vulnerable. I learned to respond with loving compassion instead of ignorant and unnecessary anger. I learned to appreciate the little things life has to offer. You taught me all this.

You are beautiful. The players you share mutual love with will definitely say the same thing. You are willing to share fond memories with those you share even a minute of your time with. I love you for that.

These memories are only a small dosage of the fun times we've had together. There is only so much I can say or write. Just know, though, that you are a changer of lives.

It's time for me to go home. I've been here for quite a while, and there's only so much time I can spend here with you. If it were up to me, I would stay here forever.

Don't worry, I'll be back. I always come back.

I love you, basketball.