Determined.--Nathan

Determined.

It’s 6:00 in the evening. My dad yells from upstairs, “Nathan! Let’s go!” I put aside my homework and grab my basketball shoes to head out to basketball practice. As the sun goes down, my face brightens as time approaches practice, and sooner or later I’m able to clear my mind and forget everything by enjoying and doing what I love. 

The game of basketball. I wasn’t the most skilled. I wasn’t the tallest. I wasn’t the most athletic. I wasn’t nationally ranked. No, I definitely was not the best on the court night in and night out. But I believed in my ability to be the best. This “game” was a necessity, as it began to become an influential part of me and my life. A game that would bring everything out of me: joy, hate, rage, pleasure, passion, and emotion. It was something to lean on when I had nothing to fall back on. I only used the same pair of basketball shoes everyday, didn’t have all of the greatest accessories like others, but none of that mattered. Once, I’d step onto the court, I had one thing on my mind: to forget about everything and just enjoy doing what I love and have so much passion for. Some days I had good games, but there were games that were worse to the point where I had to remind myself, “Learn from this and move onto the next.” 100% effort, whether we were losing by forty or even winning by fifty. To sacrifice my body each play for every

rebound, steal, or loose ball, I always felt a rush of adrenaline and energy flowing through my veins on the court. 

It’s the first half, and my coach substitutes me out of the game to pull me aside. “NATHAN, COME HERE!” I’m standing by as I listen to him yelling at me, criticizing me for the mistakes I had made while I was in the game. I could feel the anger in his breath, like he was breathing fire down the back of my neck. I blocked out his rage and anger and accepted his criticism to not make the same mistakes again. “Yes coach.” The next play, I’m back in the game. I began with fixing my mistakes, not turning the ball over, and hitting all of my shots. “Good job Nathan,” I hear from the bench. I felt so energized and didn’t recognize how good I was playing. 

And then it happened. In the second half of the game, I dribble the ball down court and size up my defender, drive left towards the basket and my knee smashes right into the opposing defender’s knee, and I was on the floor, sweat running down my face soaking my jersey. I stood up tall, enduring the pain so I could finish the game. After the game at home, I felt a huge shock of pain, like my knee was struck with a hammer. My mom came and I told her that I couldn’t bend my leg. My knee was swelling, turning purple and cold. It even felt as if I lost a knee cap from the collision. The next day, my mother and I arrived at my doctor’s appointment, and I’m still struggling to walk straight and symmetrical. The doctor asks, “What happened? How does it feel right now?” I explain and begin to think deeply. So many thoughts were running through my brain. “Is it a fractured knee? Is it only a minor injury? Will I need to use crutches, or even a knee brace? How long will I be injured for?” It was a scary moment for me because I have never been injured or felt physical pain this significant and strong. Even saying that I thought it was a

scary feeling is an understatement. After tuning out the doctor’s boring, long speech about health and my knee, I woke up from my daydream and hear confirmation that the injury is minor and only a knee contusion, bringing me a long sigh of relief. It’s a blessing that it could have been worse than a really bad bruise that would fade away in about a month. The doctor prescribed me crutches to relieve the pain so I can head home and rest. This feeling of relief gave me a sense of gratefulness towards the low degree of the injury. A month goes by and soon I’m allowed to play with full contact at practice and games. However, the game didn’t feel the same as it has been for many years. I wasn’t able to run as fast, and my head wasn’t in the right state of mind. “What’s wrong?” my dad asks. “I don’t know.” Despite stating this, I know that I’m not feeling the same anymore, even not enjoying myself. 

This minor setback didn’t end my career or take anything from me, because this passion I have would remain with me forever. For a long time, I continued to persevere hoping one day I’d feel the same enjoyment again. In the end, It was my own decision to walk away, knowing I would then be able to focus on other important priorities and still fall back on the sport of basketball as more than a game, but as an outlet to this day. Nothing will take my excitement, connection, and passion away from this game.