Thank you basketball

I first met basketball when I was about in fifth grade. I had just switched from a private to public school and naturally had no friends. It was recess, every kid and their mother seemed to be occupied with some football game, but a small lot with a basketball hoop captivated me-so rather than joining the football game with everyone else I went to the lot. The three point line was poorly drawn with chalk on the pavement, the free throw line was basically a squiggle, and somehow the top right corner of the backboard was torn off. There was a dusty deflated ball hidden in the corner amongst other miscellaneous items, and from there that place was my go-to spot during recess. 

I’d shoot around, not making much of the shots, but to me it felt fun. I was in my own little world-free from all the people who I felt I didn’t fit in with. Throughout the year people would enter and leave this bubble of mine to play basketball with me, but to be honest I didn’t really care for them too much.

If I’m being honest, I didn’t end up making as many friends that year because I was just playing basketball the entire year, however this didn’t matter as we moved to the Stevenson area during the summer. Almost like a match made in heaven, my new home came equipped with a half-court basketball hoop.

Basketball didn’t even feel like a therapeutic process at the time-although it definitely had that effect-but rather it felt as if the world around me vanished and it was just me, the ball, and the hoop. I saw my skill and ability skyrocket, but the height; not so much. I had aspirations of becoming an NBA player, but it felt as if that was a dream away. 

But for those that know me well, that usually doesn’t stop me. 

In fact it was to the point that I never focused in school because I was so convinced that the NBA was my future. I’ll never forget the day I had my career advising appointments with my counselor. She sat me down in her office, leaving the door open and started off by getting straight to the point.

“Peter, what’s a career or profession that interests you the most?” 

“NBA.” No hesitation.

Everyone in that room that overheard me started laughing, her included. Those laughs quickly quieted down when they saw visible confusion on my innocent face. For me, it felt almost like destiny. 

Later that day I told one of my good friends about the whole incident. Now mind you he had a tendency to make fun of me a lot, so I had a feeling I was about to go through it all over again. But he said something that stuck with me a lot. Rather than looking at this 5 '2 freshman, who was out of shape, had no prior experience with basketball such as AAU, and had no knowledge of the game, he didn’t point out any of that. 

All he told me was, “you have a lot of work to put in.” 

Then he proceeded to clown on me, but for the first time I realized I wasn’t putting in nearly enough work to give myself a shot at my dreams. The next day, instead of sleeping in as per my usual weekend routine, I found myself on the court, in freezing weather, no food or energy in my system, with the goal of making 100 shots and not leaving until I did exactly that. 

After a grueling three hours, I finally sunk my 100th shot and went back inside and fell asleep again. Admittedly, after that I just worked out after lunch-I realized that was just so much more convenient. 

However my hopes of trying out for the team were cut short when I tried to box-jump 60 inches. Not able to make the landing, I skipped off the ledge and used my arm to break my fall, which then broke my arm. It was just a hairline fracture but it would only heal after about a month, and I’d miss tryouts by about a couple days. 

My friend Eric Mahn. He likes basketball, but its a one sided affair (he’s not very good).

However, through sheer luck, I recovered much faster than anticipated and was fully healthy with a week to spare before tryouts. Leave me to my own devices, and somehow I’ll find a way to get injured. I was going up for a layup in PE basketball, and fell right on the edge of my ankle causing me to completely sprain it. I would be out for two weeks causing me to completely miss tryouts. 

Pretty much everyone makes a freshman year team, I mean there’s like four of them. However with sophomore year they were much more selective so I knew I missed out on a huge opportunity-but I was determined to do what I could to prepare for next year. 

From my freshman year summer up until the end of sophomore year, my routine was making 100 shots, doing some weightlifting in my basement, and running 1.5 miles. I did this around 4 times a week because the pandemic gave me a lot of freetime. 

At the start of my sophomore year no one knew whether or not there would be a basketball season that year. I continued to stick to my routine just in case and it ended up paying off. Around late November everyone got the email talking about what basketball would look like at all levels that year. What it looked like was that I was going to have my chance to shine. 

I put myself through even more training, went through my routine more frequently throughout the week, and finally the big day came. I was partly nervous but at this time I was absolutely convinced that me making the team, playing varsity next year, going D1, and then to the NBA was the path God had given me. But looking back I’m still convinced that it was divine intervention keeping me away from seriously pursuing basketball as a career.

That sophomore year tryouts were my first and my last because after I left, I realized that forces beyond my control had to be in play.

One of my good friends went to tryouts with me, and we were both nervous. A lot of people had gone the route of playing sophomore year for the first time, then JV, then varsity. If you’re good, then maybe you get some colleges looking at you. However no one that I know has ever gotten cut sophomore year and still ended up on varsity a year or two after-so our shot at that relied on that evening. 

At this time, I still wore glasses and didn’t switch to contacts when I played sports-an important detail for later. We were in layup lines towards the beginning of tryouts, he was in the line passing me the ball and I was in the line where I caught the ball then layed it in-but you only made this pass once you stepped on to the court. 

My friend was sweating bricks and was completely out of it. So, for a reason unknown to me (ironically I suspect destiny), he chucked the ball at my face while we were both still waiting in line without any heads up. This hit me dead on the face and split my glasses in two. 

Either because I was shocked or realized immediately how to fix this situation, I completely ignored his profuse apologies and rushed straight to the coach. I explained to him that my glasses had broken but my mom could drop off my spare pair. 

The 20 minutes it took for my mom to go get my glasses and drop it off was the fastest 20 minutes I’ve ever felt-because what I thought was my entire future relied entirely on this moment. 

However, for some reason my mom was denied access to the east side of campus and could only drop it off at the west side. So I had to sprint all the way to the other side of Stevenson’s massive campus and then go right back to tryouts. 

It took me only 10 minutes to get to the Point and back to the east gym, but I was completely exhausted. I wasn’t at my limit, I was at my limit’s limit. It felt as if I was held upside down for an hour and my feet were bleeding. Luckily we had a five minute rest period-but I spent most of that time throwing up in the bathroom. 

Mentally, I had given up. I had lost all faith that this was the path for me. I was convinced that the world was trying to send me a message, but in my eyes I decided I might as well finish the tryouts. I wish I hadn't though, because when I walked back into the gym after the rest period it was time for the conditioning part of tryouts. 

I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but I went home and prayed to God for forgiveness. 

As expected, I didn’t make the team but I learned an important lesson of determination through that night in hell. Little did I know, almost a year later, I would then have to apply it in my life. 

I was still persistent on trying out for the team Junior year, but I had to take an extended break from the game to focus on school. When I finally came back, the court was waiting for me as if it never left. That summer felt like catching up with that old friend, and everyday felt like a reunion party. I’d wake up at 10 in the morning, grab my beat up Jordan’s, beg my mom to drive me to the park where I’d play all the way until 4 in the afternoon, walk to the gym and play there until 8-9. 

When I’d play, I didn’t stop to think about how hungry I was, how hot it was, or even how tired my body was. At that point I was hooked, as if it were a drug. I would obsess for hours on end about the tiniest details, like practicing a simple jab step for hours. I’d practice shifting that weight to my attacking foot, angling my foot so that it forced the defender to move, and then replicating all that practice in a real game. I’d do this for every basketball-related aspect imaginable. I completely relearned how to move, think, react rather than attack, how to see all spots on the court without having to see it. I learned play after play after play, move after move, and took every breathing second of my day to learn more. 

It was to the point where (you can ask anyone that remotely knows me to verify this) I would practice basketball moves as I walked. Whether it was hitting the meanest euro-step on my mom or breaking my dads ankles without a ball, family and friends had to (still have to) deal with my nonsense for years. In fact, my dad says sometimes he’d check in on me as I was sleeping and would see me practicing my shooting form-I mean I was doing it in my sleep!

After all this, I realized that I shouldn’t give up on my dreams just yet. Also I had realized after talking with some of my friends that I quite literally had zero prospects or aspirations at that time. I didn’t like any subjects I took at school nor was I good at them, I didn’t have any particular passions outside of basketball either. So in a funny way, I didn’t really have a choice: basketball had to work. 

That was the mindset I walked into the first day of the varsity basketball camp. I was going to be playing with people who were already guaranteed a spot on the roster-and the pressure was on. In fact, it was so on that I put up an absolute stinker. 

During the warmup, I tripped and fell flat on my face doing some of the dribbling workouts, bricked about 6/7 of the shots I made, and after a little bit they just told me to sit and watch. 

I was completely humiliated. Even now, I’m still kept up at night from that day. I was so embarrassed I told the director of the program I didn’t deserve to be in the camp. However it was at this moment I realized, I was doing it for the wrong reasons. 

Whenever I reverted to my aspirations to make the team, basketball became a means to an end rather than a passion. It's a catch-22: when I played basketball for fun I lost any aspirations to make the team but when I set my mind to get a spot on the team, basketball felt almost like work. 

My passion for basketball drastically changed that day. It grew stronger despite such embarrassment because I began to play it just for the sake of perfecting a craft-not to achieve a specific goal. After that point my game jumped to levels I never thought I could get. It felt that every shot I was taking was going in, every moment I was on the court I knew what I was doing, and every second playing the game felt like a genuine blessing. 

They say if you survive junior year at Stevenson, you can survive anything in life. For almost everyone I’ve ever talked to, junior year was nonstop hell and it was no different to me. From death in the family, to situations out of my control; I always relied on basketball as a way out. 

My favorite anecdote comes from Uncle Drew, when Kyrie said “What's there not to love? Basketball is the most reliable thing in the world. It don't complain, don't ask any questions. You bounce it, it comes right back up.” 

I would periodically go on long breaks from basketball, usually because my mom forced me to, but everytime when I’d come back it’d just be waiting for me. Such a reliance on the sport was beautiful, and to this day I still rely on it a lot to keep me sane-but it comes at a cost. 

It was the day before the Calc BC exam, and to be honest I wasn’t worried at all. I was so convinced I was going to bomb the test I accepted my fate and said ‘it’s wraps.’ I called up some of my friends to go play basketball at the park, but my mom yelled at me telling I shouldn’t go do anything stupid before my big test. She was right in every connotation of the word, but if I’m being honest I still haven’t learned my lesson.

We were playing five-on-five with some randoms and I went up for a layup. On the way down, I caught an accidental bump causing me to land awkwardly. The top of my kneecap and the bottom contorted in opposite directions leading to a full ACL snap and meniscus tear. 

My doctor said it could be up to a year before I play in the worst case scenario or it could be only a couple months. Regardless-I was going to be away from the one thing that was always there for me, the only thing that never let me down, the only part of my life where I could derive consistent happiness. 

I was heartbroken. 

I was bedridden for six weeks after surgery as I couldn’t walk or put any weight on my injured leg. I lost complete touch with reality and became an entity of existence rather than a person of substance.

Through this time, I realized that if I couldn’t play basketball, maybe I should try writing about it. I picked up sportswriting and started a youtube channel that got some quick views. When the school year started, I took up a sports writing opportunity at the school newspaper. I started off with football, but if I’m being honest that wasn’t my area of expertise. But once the basketball season started, I took off. I lost myself in my work and it was the best feeling ever. I’ll never forget that period of time, because I truly found my calling for writing. 

After the basketball season, I expanded onto topics like school culture, and found much containment. I ended up making a difficult decision, and pursued writing about meaningful topics as opposed to just basketball. 

Despite such a betrayal, basketball has continued to be there for me. During winter break when I fully recovered and managed to pull off a decent first semester, I would just be at the gym all hours of the day. Throughout the second semester and the summer, I played the game with much more patience, resilience, and focus-all attributes I only gained ironically because I got injured. I played every game as if it were my last, because I realized that it could be. I never again will take my oldest friend for granted, and I appreciate all it's done for me in a new light. 

However Hamza Khan, a good friend of mine, once told me that basketball wouldn’t be enough for the problems in my life. I was upset at him at the moment, but now looking back he couldn’t have been more right. 

In terms of the first couple months of college, I had just about the worst you could have. I reached a boiling point one day, and with my fresh pair of KD’s, I walked to the campus rec-center with eyes full of tears. I played to air out my frustrations, but they were still there when I left the court. 

I tell you this story to advocate for self reliance. I have an unhealthy addiction to basketball, but after a week at home and much work on myself I’m learning to rely on myself. I’m now at a point where I can derive happiness from within as opposed to seeing the ball go through the net. 

My story is not unique-we all have passions or hobbies that serve as coping mechanisms when our problems are completely out of our control. I warn the reader of this article, as we enter a new era of independence, there will come a day where we must face our problems with nothing but our spirit and heart. What we do to relieve stress won’t relieve stress, and what we do to cope will only prolong feelings of uselessness. Prepare for this day, and ask the difficult questions to yourself right now. As we grow, what we’ve internalized so we ‘didn’t have to think about it’ will come out at the worst possible times. 

The questions I had to ask myself will be very different from what you’ll ask, but know it's something you must discover on your own. Once you can hear the tune of self love from within, you’ll hear it everywhere you go and its rhythm will resonate in every aspect of your life.