Let's face it, without a bit of adversity, the world wouldn't function properly. When I first picked up a Spalding brand basketball, roughly at the age of seven, I only had the intention of spending quality time with my father on that one Saturday afternoon, that's it. The first couple of times my dad took me out the the park, I would literally shoot the ball three times before running around kicking rocks or just sitting down staring at a gate, not caring about anything to do with the sport. It's kind of funny, while playing one day, my dad remarked on how it seemed that I was more of an artist of a player, because of what he said that I was focusing on, which wasn't shooting and pulling cross-overs, but the shapes of the clouds and the sound of the ball hitting the dark gray pavement. The words that he said didn't hurt me, the way he said it tore me up inside. That moment changed my life completely.
Once I was twelve, I finally stopped staring off into space and started jumping into it. Straight after school I'd drop my book bag on the entrance of my bedroom, along with my black North Face coat and run downstairs to practice in the park across the street from my buliding. I'd pick up my new basketball and dribble from my house to the park before finally running up and doing a quick lay up as if I were Kobe Bryant during the NBA playoffs. Dawning under the always gray skies in the fall, I'd take a couple of jumpers and like anyone, I'd make some and I'd miss some and that was that, plus, it's not like I was playing with anyone anyways. I always wondered why I was the only white kid who played in Dry Dock, and after a month, I found out why.
Once I was twelve, I finally stopped staring off into space and started jumping into it. Straight after school I'd drop my book bag on the entrance of my bedroom, along with my black North Face coat and run downstairs to practice in the park across the street from my buliding. I'd pick up my new basketball and dribble from my house to the park before finally running up and doing a quick lay up as if I were Kobe Bryant during the NBA playoffs. Dawning under the always gray skies in the fall, I'd take a couple of jumpers and like anyone, I'd make some and I'd miss some and that was that, plus, it's not like I was playing with anyone anyways. I always wondered why I was the only white kid who played in Dry Dock, and after a month, I found out why.
About a month or so later, with a new Spalding basketball in toe, I gathered enough courage to ask a couple of kids who I've seen play here before. Hey, I knew I wasn't goign to do so well since I had'nt been playing for very long, but what could go wrong? Well I was about to find out the hard way. I walked up to the guys with a calm exterior appearance and politely asked if i could join their game. After I had asked that simple question, they looked at me as if i had join made a yo' mama joke and had offended them, which confused me. A short pause had occurred before they muttered the words, "get outta here, white boy." I took two steps back and tried to analyze what in the world just happened when another kid muttered another insult, "we don't need you ruining our game". After the kids said what they said to me, I honestly felt like quitting the sport in all because if they didn't accept me, who would?
After my run in with those guys, I tried my luck again, except this time, I was a bit more confident. While playing the day before, I noticed how some of the kids around the park that I've watched were watching me play, and since I was hitting most of my shots, I figured they'd definitely let me play. So I walked up to them, once again with my ball in toe, and said, "yo guys, wanna run a full?". Yeah, my response was a bit different, but hey, at that point, I'd do anything to fit in. I waited eagerly and heart one of the bigger kids blurt out, "sure whitey, lets see what you got." Man, I was so glad to feel the blistering joy that came with being accepted. I ran to the court, put my ball down by the benches next to the black gate surrounding the public pool, and jumped onto the court with the rest of the basketball players. I distinctly remember watching the guys constantly miss short range jump shots and over dribbling like crazy, meanwhile little ol' me was sitting by the free throw line, unguarded, just waiting for the ball to come my way. By the time that I had realized that I was still playing and not standing on the court for no reason, the ball had slowly came my way off of a missed jump shot by one of the other team's players. I figured that it was my moment to shine, so I took the ball back to the free throw line and took a mid ranged jumper, praying that it'd go in.
My prayers went unanswered as I watched the ball rotate in and out of the hoop and bounce out of bounds. As soon as the ball came off the rim, my team started yelling at me, even though they had missed a pretty nice amount of shots themselves. One thing I heard out of all the chatter distinctly was one kid, the kid who allowed me to play in the first place, said to one of his friends, "who let this bum play?" Needless to say, I felt unwanted yet again. It was at this point that I realized that I need to practice even harder to prove everyone wrong; that moment shaped who I am today, both as a player, and a person.
After my run in with those guys, I tried my luck again, except this time, I was a bit more confident. While playing the day before, I noticed how some of the kids around the park that I've watched were watching me play, and since I was hitting most of my shots, I figured they'd definitely let me play. So I walked up to them, once again with my ball in toe, and said, "yo guys, wanna run a full?". Yeah, my response was a bit different, but hey, at that point, I'd do anything to fit in. I waited eagerly and heart one of the bigger kids blurt out, "sure whitey, lets see what you got." Man, I was so glad to feel the blistering joy that came with being accepted. I ran to the court, put my ball down by the benches next to the black gate surrounding the public pool, and jumped onto the court with the rest of the basketball players. I distinctly remember watching the guys constantly miss short range jump shots and over dribbling like crazy, meanwhile little ol' me was sitting by the free throw line, unguarded, just waiting for the ball to come my way. By the time that I had realized that I was still playing and not standing on the court for no reason, the ball had slowly came my way off of a missed jump shot by one of the other team's players. I figured that it was my moment to shine, so I took the ball back to the free throw line and took a mid ranged jumper, praying that it'd go in.
My prayers went unanswered as I watched the ball rotate in and out of the hoop and bounce out of bounds. As soon as the ball came off the rim, my team started yelling at me, even though they had missed a pretty nice amount of shots themselves. One thing I heard out of all the chatter distinctly was one kid, the kid who allowed me to play in the first place, said to one of his friends, "who let this bum play?" Needless to say, I felt unwanted yet again. It was at this point that I realized that I need to practice even harder to prove everyone wrong; that moment shaped who I am today, both as a player, and a person.
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