For the first time in The Memory Tourist’s short history, I am dedicating a whole week to one theme: basketball. Speaking as this is the fifth entry so far to tackle the hoops, I think it’s clear how much of a fan I am. There is an eagerness in me to get to Thursday and watch that glorious game between The New Orleans Pelicans and The Utah Jazz face off against each other, restarting a season that was long believed to be over, ending with a giant question mark hanging over everything. I am grateful that we’re so close to potentially getting an answer.
But I suppose that the one question you’re likely asking is: why do I like basketball? What makes it any more special than baseball or football?
Besides the fact that I hate football, I think it’s a fair question that gives me a rare chance to dive into my own personal experiences. While this whole website is dedicated to making my writing more transparent by giving you a sense of how I relate to media, I don’t know that there are many opportunities where I can escape the media entirely and focus on myself. Specifically, I want to talk about why basketball is something that I deeply care about.
Back in middle school, circa 2001-2004, I played basketball most days. Because we played in a church parking lot, we were one of the few grades who got a half-court to assemble teams and see who could outdo each other. If I’m being honest, I was very low on the list of great players. Sure I was valuable at times, but the truth is that in the case of an emergency where points mattered, I was expendable. I was a *good* player, but given that I was overweight and tended not to run in gym class, I had no athletic skill to speak of. Frankly, I don’t know if I even knew how to play properly.
There was a point in 2003 that happened on a whim. If you asked me the day before this conversation, I would’ve told you that I had no plans to do it. Still, I remember one of my friends approaching me and saying that we should try out for the basketball team. I don’t know how serious he was, but my impression at the time was that we were all doing it just to say we did it. In my mind, I already knew that I would be cut. I was in no shape to be on the team.
As you can guess, the try-outs was a very intimidating day for me. Even if I had the belief that this was it, I wanted to not look like a fool in front of everyone. For what it’s worth, the applicants were three-quarters of the seventh and eighth-grade boys. We all knew each other. I don’t know that they would judge me if I wasn’t picked, but it still felt like I needed to match them. I never would. One kid said that by the end of the season I would be able to make a slam dunk. Even 17 years later, I can barely slap the net.
The biggest takeaway for me and my friend was the feeling of ache. I’m sure I got it worse since I never took P.E. seriously It was in my legs and arms, reminding me of this silly decision. It would be a one-time thing. I’d return to normal the next week, going home to watch TV in the afternoon and eventually checking in with how the team did in a few months. I believed that I had bombed try-outs even if I never fell on my face.
But here’s the thing about going to a Catholic school, especially one that only pulled from a collective of maybe two dozen candidates (who even then didn’t all try out). There is room for fodder. In theory, I wonder if cutting a player could be seen as discrimination. With that said, I was expecting to arrive for the next meeting and being told that things were over .Go home. We got who we need.
In one of the biggest surprises of my life, I made the team. Me, someone who barely exercised and was working off of sore muscles and a lacking respiratory system. How did this happen?
That, in a nutshell, is how I came to be a member of The St. Cornelius Cougars as lead by Coach Armstrong.
It started as a joke, but suddenly I was going to spend the next two semesters learning how to be a better basketball player. There isn’t much exemplary about practices to share. It’s your typical series of drills. All I know is that I was coming at a bigger disadvantage than most of the players. In reality, we only had three great players that carried the team, but everyone else did role positions so well that I was rarely called on. I could probably count how many games I actually played on one hand.
The one thing that I remember about practices that should be indicative of my skill came when we had to run up and down the court. Me really trying still put me a good three or four laps behind everyone. I’m pretty sure that everyone could’ve taken a break and gone out to pick up dinner by the time I finished. Still, Coach Armstrong insisted that everyone clap when I finished. While I can recognize this as pandering on one level, I think it was the best example of team support that I’d see the whole season. We encouraged the worst of us with as much passion as we did the best of us.
Coach Armstrong was nothing if not supportive of making me a better player. At best I became an average player by the end, knowing how to do basic routines that could get me through a game.
I remember in my premiere game that I immediately fouled some guy and got free throws. Following this maybe-minute of playing, I was kicked out. Everyone was surprised at how aggressive I was during the game. I would later do a tip-off that resulted in me turning over the ball. I had my moments, though I was mostly reduced to the bench. It was only when we were up by double digits that I could see myself reasonably playing.
One of the advantages of being on a basketball team that had to travel to different locations was getting to watch other teams play. I spent as much time in the stands watching the girls’ team as I did preparing for my own game. We’d watch each other show up, beginning to plan our strategy and maybe catch up on homework if that was applicable.
As I mentioned, we really only had three great players on the team. Somehow that was enough to be one of the better teams in the division. Still, I enjoyed watching them play, and realizing some pride in being there, watching people you practiced with getting to prove themselves.
Meanwhile, Coach Armstrong would be on the sidelines doing those coachy things. I don’t have to explain it, do I? He’s basically yelling out directions at the players. Everything sounds angry at that decibel, so it sounded like he was about to rip every player’s head off. With that said, he was always concise and rational in his criticism. The only person I ever felt sorry for was his nephew, who always felt like he got very personal about. He didn’t exactly insult him, but the tone was different enough. He somehow never yelled at me, though that was again because of how low-stakes I was as a player.
We didn’t win the season, but as far as I remember we came close. We did well enough to give our school some pride.
At the end of the season, we had a sports awards ceremony. Things went according to plan for the most part with the good players winning the good trophies. Then, somewhere down the line, they announced me as the winner of The Most Inspirational Player.
I think it was more because I didn’t quit and showed up to every practice getting 1% better at a time. I listened to criticism and tried to always do better. In some respects, I feel strange about being considered “inspiring” for that, me The Least Valuable Player, but it remains such a self-esteem boost that I still occasionally think about. Coach Armstrong clearly had his heart in the right place when he gave me that award. It was genuine and maybe one of the biggest surprises in my entire life. I have only ever been on one school sports team in my entire life, and I won a trophy for it.
Not bad for doing it as a joke.
Deep down it was for the best. It taught me about things like teamwork and that I was capable of doing things that I didn’t think I could. While I never tried out for another sports team, I used the work ethic to keep me from feeling like anything was limiting in my life. It arguably leads me to also strive for a healthier life in small ways and understand that everyone is trying their hardest to make this whole game a reality.
It also helps that this was around the time of The Los Angeles Lakers were in the midst of a three-peat. As a Southern California kid, there was nothing that felt more special than having the best team with the best players bringing more trophies. We had Shaq. We had Kobe. We had every reason to believe that nobody would ever beat us, waving those purple pendants on the side of cars like they’re flags to salute.
You all know how that goes.
For whatever reason, I lost touch with basketball for over a decade after that three-peat era. Then again, I personally ever knew The Lakers as only Shaq and Kobe. I may have loved basketball, but I didn’t know how to be obsessed with it.
It would take until more recent seasons with The Golden State Warriors for me to realize what I love about the sport. For the first time, I was able to recognize a roster beyond its star player. For the first time since the height of The Lakers (and, to some extent, The Chicago Bulls) I actually became invested and desired to learn everything I could about the game. The Warriors became more than Steph Curry to me. It became my realization that I was as enamored by how a team plays and passes, keeping you on your toes the entire game. They’re telling a story with every play, and I enjoy just seeing them unfold.
Of course, all of this is just a reminder of when I decided to begin playing on a whim. I may have never been great, but I recognized the effort that came with things. The pageantry is one thing, but the energy and spontaneity of entering a game and not knowing how things would go fill me with rich anticipation. Maybe it’s because I recognize that uncertainty in my own basketball “career,” but it just fills me with warmth.
I can’t wait to see how this season goes. I personally didn’t think it would be coming back, so this is all a wonderful surprise. Here’s hoping to a fair and interesting conclusion to the season, proving once again that anything is possible if you don’t limit yourself by what’s blocking you. Find ways to work around it and improve your chances if you can. That’s what I did, and I’m sure The NBA will, too.
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