My athletic ability is something I am proud of... but it wasn't always that way. I was a late bloomer in that area. Perhaps it was because my dad was never mentally there to help me throw a football outside and my brother (being much older) was never around either. Basically I grew up an only child.
In 7th grade I remember trying out for the basketball team. I don't even remember the real reason other than a friend of mine was and I tagged along. I was so uncoordinated it was embarrasing. I couldn't even dribble the ball with my left hand which made going around cones quite challenging. Yeah, I never made the team.
It wasn't until High School that I finally took up the interest. Mostly because I needed an outlet for my anger. All through Jr High I was on the shorter side of average for my height. In 6th grade I was only 4'5 and I knew I had to find a way to keep from being picked on. So I came in with this attitude that nobody was going to mess with me. Anyone that tried to knock me down I was going to punch him in the face and not stop until I was pulled off. I still remember this one kid in class calling me names constantly. All I kept saying to him was keep talking because I am not forgetting one word of it. After class I waited for him around the corner and as soon as he left the classroom I grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall. With a psychotic look I told him he better look over his shoulder because I will F- him up. Sure enough, the next day I was walking in the halls and saw him walking in front of me. I handed my books to my friend, walked up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder and punched him square in the face as he turned around. I then gave him several more punches to the face as he laid curled up on the ground before I just walked away. NOBODY messed with me after that.
That chip on my shoulder continued and I was getting worse and worse at school. Especially to teachers. So when I found basketball as a sport I went at it with everything I had. I was playing constantly at the park near my home after school and got proficient at dribbling between my legs, behind my back, right or left handed it didn't matter. I was also blessed with large hands (10 inch width from thumb to pinky) so I was able to palm a basketball early on.
In 10th grade I moved to my second High School and decided to try out for the team again. I was one of the only white kids there and the shortest of everyone but I could still grab and hang on a 10 foot rim. Being 5'6 at the time I felt accomplished. Things were going well in tryouts and there was only 1 day left before cuts were made. I went home to tell my dad about it and his exact words to me were "You are 3 feet too short to play basketball... mentally and physically". I mean who says that to their child.
Anyhow, I took that to heart and I swore I was not going to fail. So I grabbed a ball and went to the park. I was on a roll too. I was shooting shots from all over the court and not missing a shot. I made something like 20 in a row from all angles. I finally missed a shot but it was a layup, and that angered me so much that I jumped high for the rebound and came down crashing on my left leg. SNAP!!!!
I ended up limping the mile and a half back home and when I came in the door my brother and dad were both sitting in the living room. Not one of them gave me a hand or asked me why I was limping. I just went to my room and closed the door. I didn't know what happened but I was certain I did something wrong. The next day I was hardly able to walk let alone run. I tried to make a go of it but was unable to. Coach cut me on the spot. My mom took me to the doctor and it turned out to be a partially torn ligament in my knee which required surgery. That was September. I didn't get it repaired until the following summer for reasons I still can't explain. I went that whole year limping with a knee brace with stairs being the worst. But I managed.
My Junior year I went to my third High School and went out for the team again. This time I was armed with a years worth of book knowledge. Since I couldn't play I started reading up on basketball like crazy and practicing my jump shot to perfection. Unfortunately the swelling was still there since I just got off surgery two months prior and I was unable to make a full go at tryouts. Another year wasted. And by 12th grade I was working after school to buy my own car and had no time.
Still I felt good about my skills and in college I would go to the gym and play pickup games constantly. I even asked the coach to tryout for the team but was told he only accepts scholarship players and to try the Christian academy down the road. WTH!!! I was in college to study not to play basketball. I just wanted to try out. So I hung up my jersey.
I always wondered what would have happened if I never had that injury... or if I would have had surgery done earlier... or if I never changed high schools that last time. But I knew there was nothing to do but just move on. The best thing I can do now is make sure my kids don't go through the same thing.
This Saturday my son will be trying out for baseball for the first time (10 years old). I have worked with him on catching and hitting a baseball over the past few years and he has told me he wants to do it. So I forked over the $250 to get him registered. Nothing in the world will make me prouder than if he was able to play well in this league and gain confidence in himself as a human being. But just seeing him on that field (something I was never able to do for one reason or another) will be enough for me to know I one-uped my father once again.
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