In the Beginning…..
I thought I was going to grow up to be 6’3″ (because that’s what the doctor told me) and was going to play in he NBA. I used to play every day in my childhood, crossing up ninth graders at age nine, hitting deep fadeaway corner threes on the playground that forced everyone to run up to me and shake my hand. I even had a Kobe Bryant-esque spin move in mid air to avoid a collision and hit a lay up. Who can attest to these things you ask? Well, only I can of course! Why is that? Because my memories of basketball only included me.
is a humongous reason why many athletes don’t pan out. It wasn’t the lack of ability that hindered their hopes and dreams, but the lack of self discipline and caring. No one remembers me being good at basketball because I wasn’t willing to accept the fact that it was a team sport. Just two years ago in the process of remembrance, I chalked up my decision to never play high school basketball to my. “Uncle Tom” head coach we all called him; us being the black kids he hated. For whatever reason, as one of four half or fully African-American students who attended Harpers Ferry middle school, I also though that the gym teacher was subservient to Caucasian people because of the way he treated us and only us. He would call us “stupid” and “foolish” for minor things. We hated him.
What really was the case…..
was that he believed in us and was challenging us to be greater. We were so consumed with the hatred from his actions that we refused to really “play” for him in sports. None of the black kids wanted to be involved with what this man was teaching. My dismay for this man hindered that precious and small three year time window I had to learn what he was teaching. I often ignored what he said in numerous cases. I was not only hurting myself, but I hurt the terrible team that needed me as well.
This is why…..
I try to write as many sports stories as I possibly can as a senior at Marshall University. My goal is to be one of the greatest sports writers ever. That may be an arrogant claim to try to put my stake in, but my intentions have no ill-will I promise.
I simply want to honor the men and women who fight through the tough love and fight for their team. No one kept me accountable from my youth playing days except for one man and no one kept them accountable. Yes, sometimes a player in the NBA is something of manifest dynasty; a position in life bestowed upon him from above because of the natural gifts he has. However, millions of men have attempted and failed to put it all together because of the willingness to relinquish pride.
I want to spend my life honoring people who live their life fighting for a whole and not for a one.
Below is an example of someone that does so
Jake Harter, Marshall Rugby, Number 8 position