“Bye David! Have a good practice! I’ll pick you up in 2 hours,” Mom said as she exited the gym.
I weakly waved goodbye to her and nervously looked around the gym. There were nine other fifth graders shooting basketballs, doing difficult crossovers, and emulating the signature moves of their favorite players. Of course, I did not know how to do any of this because I never played before. Basketball, at the time, was just another sport that my parents pushed me into to get me off the couch and away from my Gameboy.
Since I did not know how to play and did not know anyone on the team, I watched quietly from the sidelines until the coach blew his whistle and started practice. It was a disaster. When I tried to dribble, the ball went off my foot. When I tried to shoot, the ball didn’t even reach the basket – a complete air ball. When I tried to defend other players and keep them in front of me, they dribbled past me and made the shot easily.
I weakly waved goodbye to her and nervously looked around the gym. There were nine other fifth graders shooting basketballs, doing difficult crossovers, and emulating the signature moves of their favorite players. Of course, I did not know how to do any of this because I never played before. Basketball, at the time, was just another sport that my parents pushed me into to get me off the couch and away from my Gameboy.
Since I did not know how to play and did not know anyone on the team, I watched quietly from the sidelines until the coach blew his whistle and started practice. It was a disaster. When I tried to dribble, the ball went off my foot. When I tried to shoot, the ball didn’t even reach the basket – a complete air ball. When I tried to defend other players and keep them in front of me, they dribbled past me and made the shot easily.
I really wanted to quit basketball. I felt awkward and out of my comfort zone on the basketball court. I couldn’t seem to do anything right while the other players were running by me, scoring layups, making jump shots, competing with each other, and laughing and having fun together. Throughout the entire practice, I felt out of place and alone on the court. Due to my lack of skills, the others did not really want to associate with me. While the other players were talking and connecting with each other, I was pretty much left out and ignored.
After practice, I went home and begged my parents to pull me out of basketball. However, no matter how much I screamed and cried, my parents would not let me give up. They told me, “David, you cannot give up so easily. It is our family motto that you can achieve anything as long as you put your mind to it and persevere.”
I was angry that my parents wouldn’t let me quit. I thought that they were being unfair and were not looking at things from my perspective. Nevertheless, I hated making my parents upset by going against their words so I reluctantly continued practicing.
My love for basketball didn’t develop until my first game – after a month of long practices that I begrudgingly attended to appease my parents. Coming into the game, I was not really expecting much out of myself. During practice, my teammates rarely passed me the ball because I was a total beginner. I only got the ball if they had absolutely no one else to pass to or if I somehow got the rebound over our taller players – which was a rare occasion as I was the shortest player on the team. However, during the game, I was open right next to the basket and one of my teammates passed me the ball. I was surprised, but I managed to shoot the ball just before the player on the other team could reach me. The ball left my hands, traveled over the outstretched fingertips of the opposing center, and through the basket. Swish. My teammates didn’t have much of a reaction to my shot (to them, it was just another typical shot), but the moment of my first basket was forever ingrained in my mind. It was the turning point for me in how I felt towards basketball.
After that game, I played basketball with more enthusiasm. I enjoyed practices and grew closer to my teammates. As my love for basketball grew, so did my skills. My dribbling improved so I could do crossovers, and dribble through the defense in order to get to the basket. My defense became more polished so I could keep my opponent from getting past me. My shooting was refined as my form became better and my range expanded to the three-point line (as opposed to the paint when I first started). I moved up the ranks of my team and became the sixth man in the eighth grade – coming off the bench as a spark of instant offense.
After practice, I went home and begged my parents to pull me out of basketball. However, no matter how much I screamed and cried, my parents would not let me give up. They told me, “David, you cannot give up so easily. It is our family motto that you can achieve anything as long as you put your mind to it and persevere.”
I was angry that my parents wouldn’t let me quit. I thought that they were being unfair and were not looking at things from my perspective. Nevertheless, I hated making my parents upset by going against their words so I reluctantly continued practicing.
My love for basketball didn’t develop until my first game – after a month of long practices that I begrudgingly attended to appease my parents. Coming into the game, I was not really expecting much out of myself. During practice, my teammates rarely passed me the ball because I was a total beginner. I only got the ball if they had absolutely no one else to pass to or if I somehow got the rebound over our taller players – which was a rare occasion as I was the shortest player on the team. However, during the game, I was open right next to the basket and one of my teammates passed me the ball. I was surprised, but I managed to shoot the ball just before the player on the other team could reach me. The ball left my hands, traveled over the outstretched fingertips of the opposing center, and through the basket. Swish. My teammates didn’t have much of a reaction to my shot (to them, it was just another typical shot), but the moment of my first basket was forever ingrained in my mind. It was the turning point for me in how I felt towards basketball.
After that game, I played basketball with more enthusiasm. I enjoyed practices and grew closer to my teammates. As my love for basketball grew, so did my skills. My dribbling improved so I could do crossovers, and dribble through the defense in order to get to the basket. My defense became more polished so I could keep my opponent from getting past me. My shooting was refined as my form became better and my range expanded to the three-point line (as opposed to the paint when I first started). I moved up the ranks of my team and became the sixth man in the eighth grade – coming off the bench as a spark of instant offense.
During my freshman year of high school, I wanted to test my skills in a more competitive environment so I joined the Amateur Athletic Union – a national league that had teams more skilled than those in my former league, National Junior Basketball. The Amateur Athletic Union is a highly popular basketball league outside of high school that recruited and produced some of the best players in the nation. Many NBA players like Kobe Bryant, Vince Carter, LeBron James, and Isaiah Thomas competed in AAU before they played in the NBA. With such a history of greatness surrounding this league, I was excited to join and could not wait for the next chapter of my journey.
On the first day of practice with my new team, I walked into the gym confident about my skills after how successful I had been with my previous team. However, the other players were bigger, faster, stronger, and even more skilled than I could have possibly imagined. They were shooting from half-court with ease. They were showing off the fancy dribbling moves that they modeled after Allen Iverson and Stephen Curry. They were playing one-on-one and dunking on each other.
I was mesmerized by what everyone was doing. I had never seen so much skill and talent gathered together before. Nevertheless, this also meant that I was back at the bottom of the rotation. That season, I spent a lot of time on the bench, watching as my teammates played. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I was able to play for a couple minutes before being subbed out. I was excited every time I stepped onto the court, but was not able to show much of my skills and capabilities in the limited playing time I was given.
At the end of the season, my parents were irate with my lack of playing time. They wanted to pull me out of the team because they thought that I could be doing something more productive instead of wasting my time sitting on the bench. However, I could not quit basketball. I was hooked to the game. A life without basketball was unimaginable for me. I could not quit AAU either. Through my experiences and struggles that I overcame, I took my parents’ words about perseverance to heart. Quitting now would be no different than running away when the going gets tough. My pride would not let me even consider what it perceived to be the easy way out.
Thus, during the offseason, I lived and breathed basketball to better myself for the upcoming season. I woke up at 6 a.m. every day, enduring the tormenting and freezing forty-degree weather to get 2 hours of practice before school. I did my homework during class and lunch so I could squeeze in a few more hours of practice after school during the afternoons and evenings. I meticulously observed and took notes of every basketball game I could watch on TV – learning the off-ball movements, angles, and defensive schemes of professional NBA players. I relentlessly watched YouTube videos that taught different crossover moves, shot mechanics, and defensive drills. I ran around the neighborhood whilst dribbling my basketball (switching hands after each lap) to improve my speed with the ball. I even carried my basketball around the house and held it in my sleep. I honed my shooting by improving my mechanics for a quicker release, expanded my array of crossovers and finishes around the basket, and increased my knowledge of the game and basketball IQ. After seeing all of the hard work that I put in during the offseason, my parents decided to give me one more chance at basketball.
When the next season began, the gap between me and my teammates shrunk. With each practice, I displayed more of my improved skillset from my offseason training. Seeing this, my coach gave me more opportunities and gradually gave me more minutes during games. A week before the championship game, he announced that I would be one of the starters. I was so ecstatic! All of my hard work was paying off.
Finally, it was time to start the game. It took everything for me to calm my nerves as I waited at half-court. After what felt like hours, the referee walked to the middle and threw the ball up to begin the championship. We were off to the races. The intensity was high as everyone gave 100% effort to win the championship. The crowd was cheering and chanting loudly for their teams, the benches were yelling encouragement to their teammates, the players were sprinting up and down the courts, and our teams kept trading baskets. Back and forth we went. No matter how much we tried, we could not shake the other team. If we scored one basket, they would come right back and score one of their own in the ensuing possession. We couldn’t seem to pull ahead. The pace of the game continued this way until the very end.
In the final seconds of the game, we were down by two points and my teammate was inbounding the ball at half-court. At the sound of the whistle, my teammate passed the ball in to our point guard. He caught the ball and drove to the basket, but encountered a double team so I was open on the right side of the court behind the three point line and called for the ball. Once the ball was in my hands, I shot it with the pure instinct that came with all of my practice. At that very moment, time slowed down. It was just me, the ball, and the basket. I was weightless in the air, the ball was light in my hands, and the shot was effortless as the ball left my fingertips. Swish. We won 56-55. We won the championship! The crowd went wild and my teammates ran and tackled me in happiness and elation.
From the bottom of the dogpile, I looked up towards the crowd and saw my parents. They were cheering louder than anyone else in the crowd – beaming with pride and joy. In that moment, I thanked my parents for not letting the 9-year-old me quit basketball after the first practice. Basketball taught me to never give up, and that anything is possible with hard work, diligence, and discipline. The lessons that I learned from basketball were incorporated within every other aspect of my life (such as school and working towards reach my dream of being a sports medicine doctor), driving my determination to succeed by giving 110% effort in all of my endeavors. Every experience I had during my basketball journey has shaped my character. If my parents had let me quit, I would not have become the hard-working and diligent person that I am today. For pushing me past my limits and making me grow, I will forever be grateful to both my parents and basketball.