Hoop dreams

[For those not really dying to read about basketball, skip to the last three or four paragraphs - this somewhat of a pointless post]

Basketball was an incredibly important part of my life for it gave me confidence. On the basketball court, I had found my place, my strength, my skill - and I fought for it, every step of the way.

I started out in 7th grade - I happened to be taller than my classmates, and hence was picked for a team, and pretty much winged it. The coach called a bunch of us back to attend a summer training camp. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had the poorest skills, and was the slowest learner - my coach never let me forget that I took 2 weeks to learn how to take a lay-up. My sole role, starting out, was to grab the rebound - and for a long time, thats all I did. Someone else would throw it up, and if they missed - I'd be there to catch it, and make the shot. Somewhat analagous to my life ...

Needless to say, I improved in time - and stuck with the team. I had hoped to become team captain, but that never happened - and I don't think I ever let that go. I transitioned to another team - one that was definitely more co-ordinated and accomplished than my high-school team. Best team in the city for longer than anyone could remember - MCC. I left my high-school team as one of the key players, and on my new team - I was once again, poorest in form. Its an incredibly humbling experience - to go from the top, to the very bottom, and I consider it a great life lesson. The gift that keeps on givin' :)

I almost quit at that point. Other players that had transitioned had already quit - couldn't handle it. The older girls were often ruthless - on court and off, until you got to know them. It was kinda a right of passage - they got screwed over as freshmen, and in turn they did the same to you. A little chocolate cake, however, made them putty in my hands ... ok not quite, but it definitely softened them up, annnndd meant that I was responsible for cake after every game. But there was one player that was quite unlike the rest - lets call her "Jordan." :)

When I joined the team, Jordan had just come back from extensive injury. She had torn the ligaments in both of her ankles the previous season, after being at the height of her career - coming off of her national debut. She arrived at the court (after a two hour workout), practiced, and left, after breakfast of course. I was petrified. Being on her team was intense pressure - her game was flawless. I always wondered what amazing game she must have had before the injury - alot of people told me that it was like watching poetry in motion. She was indeed the Micheal Jordan of Bangalore basketball, and she was on our team. It was all business around her, no foolin' around - practice like you're in the game she always said.

At the beginning of that fateful year, I had my lapses in faith - I didn't put in any playing time for lack of confidence. But somehow, when I look back - basketball was the only thing that I kept working towards. I ended up coming earlier than everyone - even when we didn't have scheduled practice - just to go head to head with Jordan. At first, she kicked butt ruthessly ... but eventually I started putting points on the board. My key strength remained the same - if there was a rebound out there, I'd get it - and put it straight back. The only place I was reliable. But give me the ball outside the key - I was useless, a total waste of space. Jordan took me on, and started challenging me during practice - the beauty of the one-on-one is that it makes you create your own plays. She encouraging me to shoot more on my own, without just waiting for the rebound.

And one day ... it just clicked. I remember it like it was yesterday - first day back at school after winter break, most of the team had been away training for youth (under 18) nationals. I was told to guard a teammate that was my arch-nemisis - in a position that I rarely played, guard (I am traditionally a forward). Off the bat, I stole the ball away and score a quick layup - much to my teammates surprise as it was an uncharacteristic move. I had always waited for the points to come, never really creating points. Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, a couple of posessions later - Jordan passed to me, nodding as if to say - create something. I don't know what I was thinking, but obviously my opponent didn't expect me to do anything but pass - instead I beat her on the crossover (now a signature move, read: my only move), and scored. Again - very out of character.

I eventually faded away from the local basketball scene, more for personal reasons and aspirations - I wanted to shoot more, and rebound less. Go after my own points, not just clean up someone elses mess. But basketball will always hold a special place in my heart, as will my teammates. Jordan and I have continued our friendship, one that was grounded in a game - and sometimes is just as simple as that. She taught me a lot about myself, and alot about life.

I think that I've used my basketball lessons in choosing my profession, and perhaps to some extent in my academic life. But in my personal life, I don't think I've quite gotten the point. I find myself waiting for the rebound - waiting for something to fall apart so I can fix it. Not really trying to create the plays, or control the game. Which explains why I often look for things gone wrong, because they are sometimes easier to capitalize on.

I'm reminded of that transitionary time, where I had to work at creating something. I had alot more energy back in the day, now I'm just tired and kinda want to wait for the rebound. But that can be incredibly frustrating.

If the last couple of paragraphs don't make sense, take this post for its face value - its just me reminiscing about basketball. I miss my teammates, I miss the old days ... I miss the one-on-ones, and the endless playing time. It was blissful. Too much has changed to get that back, but the memories are well worth it.

Note: Am suffering from some form of writers block, so I'm trying to work around it by posting pointlessly. I have no less than 6 incomplete posts on the dashboard - the situation is dismal.