Rewind to three years ago.

Because I miss high school basketball.

I do not have words to describe my senior season. Looking back on it, it was still one of the best times of my life. Every single day, I got to lace up with some of my favorite people and win and win and win again. I got to win championships with them. I got to cut down nets with them. And I would not trade that final season for anything. I went into that season loving basketball. Absolutely loving it. And I came out of it with my heart so deeply rooted in the game that there was, and still isn’t, any turning back.

My four years of high school basketball were a bit of a whirlwind - a roller coaster to say the least. My first three years were an up and down, trying to find a footing in the league. After coming out with a league title my freshmen year and hitting a rut in my sophomore and junior seasons, I could not have asked for a better senior season; twenty regular season wins, an OCC championship, district champions and posting a final record of 24-2.

Let me tell you about my team. These kids could make me laugh harder than anyone. We were a bunch of clowns that loved to crack jokes and tease each other. That winter, my team did everything together. We ate most meals together, we practiced together. We even went to Disney World together. After every game, we had a team meal then went to a house and goofed around for hours. There was not much sadness in my senior season, but instead lots of celebration. It seemed like every night, we had something to celebrate. We celebrated each other. We had the time of our lives playing for and with each other.

Now my juniors and sophomores are in college and my little freshmen are seniors, and I feel really old because three years ago, we ate DaVinci's every other day and opened letters from our buddies on game-day. Our traditions, while some persist, will forever live in our locker room, and boy, do I miss locker #13, in between my best friend and my point guard. I miss dancing around the locker room to Jay-Z and eating firecracker popsicles after practice on Saturday mornings. And I certainly miss my team, but this I know: whatever happens, we are family.