I didn’t know I loved basketball. Until one day in fifth grade, two semi-coordinated students were chosen to train with the middle school team in my hometown of Windsor, Ontario. My best friend J. and I were those two students. Neither of us knew how to dribble or shoot, but we were fairly tall for our age, and the coach saw potential and gave us a chance. I’m not sure how far J. took her balling career, because she moved away before we started high school.
The peak of my career occurred in eighth grade when my team unanimously chose me for captain that year. I anticipated a few passes, cut the lanes, and hit my lay-ups. Pretty consistently. Plus I got along with everyone on the team. I never did the click thing, until I was forced into a click of non-clickers by the clickees who excluded me.
So what happened between fifth and eighth grade that had me dreaming of hoops and jump shots almost every night? One word. Motivation. Someone told me they thought I had what it took to be a great basketball player. I believed it. And although belief is only half the battle, that one adult who spoke into my life and gave me a chance to step up to the three point line. Metaphorically speaking. I don’t think I could hit a three when I was ten years old.
Motivation gave me the mouth to ask my dad to install a hoop against our garage door. And every night after I finished my homework, I shot around until my arms ached. I can’t say I played rain or shine, snow or sleet. Perhaps if I had been that intense, I would have developed a little closer to Jordan calibre skills. That same motivation gave me the courage to write out a lengthy list of detailed reasons why my parents should allow me to attend Hoops camp every summer. Now that I think about it, I guess that was the writer in me coming out too! And it worked. I remember my Dad looking over the ink- covered paper and shaking his head. He was impressed, although not convinced. I think the tears helped. I wanted it that bad. Ultimately, they let me go. And the summer before sixth grade, I learned the importance of dribbling and protecting your ball and the difference between offense and defense. I lived and breathed in my high tops for eight hours a day for an entire week. And I loved it!
I played for a couple of years in high school as well, although as junior players, we spent most of our minutes warming the bench. Then we moved across the border, to Livonia, Michigan, and I went from being an average sized fish in an average sized pool to a small fish and a big ocean. There were so many girls trying out for the team, tryouts took an entire week. And after an off day where I hit only fifty per cent of my shots, I was cut before round two. Wahhh!! I know it didn’t help that I was a transfer student with no history with the coaches or staff. Regardless, at the moment of observation, I had nothing spectacular to show. Sigh.
So I resorted to playing intramurals for the rest of my days. Played pick-up ball in college with classmates in the gym and on outdoor courts and began coaching sixth grade boys when I landed my first teaching job. So although I never made it to the WNBA, somehow basketball has never left my side.
Funny thing is, I never guessed it would get me a man! And not just any man. But rather, the man I would someday marry! 🙂
I met my husband on the basketball court. A driveway with a hoop on the side to be exact. I had just started attending a new church and came to a friend’s house for their young adult hang out time on a Friday night. Several guys were playing a game of ball when I arrived. I told myself, “Don’t go near them.” Seriously. I didn’t want to be known as the tomboy that I spent most of my life being. But I guess we’re not always as in control as we think we are. Because as I walked past the driveway, making a bee-line for the front door, a voice called out, “Hey Raj, wanna jump in this game? You can guard…” You guessed it. I was guarding my future husband and I had no idea who he was. Just that he was really cute! And played defense so well, I didn’t get any shots in. That day.
Weeks later, we were goofing around on another court, this time at an indoors gym, and he decided to place a wager as I dribbled in front of him.
“Next basket wins. Loser treats winner to dinner.”
Motivation? You betcha. I dribbled past him and did a little underhanded lay-up and that was our first unofficial date. On him.
By the end of the summer, it was clear we were both smitten. Shortly after we had the “talk” where we expressed our interest in each other, my now hubby showed me an email he sent to a friend, months before we met each other. In it, he told his roommate that he had no plans to pursue girls. He had to study hard in order to get into med school. He needed to stay focused. Unless…
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| “THE DRIVEWAY!” This is where it all began…17 years ago! Summer 2011 |
“She’s Indian. Loves Jesus. And plays a mean game of ball, I ain’t even lookin!”
Goes to show you. Be careful what you pray for!
And if you haven’t guessed by now, we’re Bulls fans!
Now we both coach our girls’ teams and hope to pass on our love for the game. We took the girls to a Bull’s game last night in Philly. We arrived early and headed straight for the court side seats.
“Excuse me Miss, but can I see your tickets?”
“Well, actually, we have tickets up in the nose bleeds. Would it be okay to take the kids down for a few minutes just to watch the warm-ups? I promise we’ll go to our assigned seats before the game starts.”
“I’m sorry. We’re not allowed to do that.”
“Oh please. We’ve come all the way from…er…Chicago just to see the Bulls play. We’ll only stay a few minutes. And I promise we’ll go to our seats.”
“Well, hmmmm? Okay. But don’t stay too long.” And she ushered us in quickly.
Okay. I lied. But not totally. We did come from Chicago. Originally. She never asked how long ago? If she had, I would have told the truth. Almost fourteen years ago. I knew saying “New York” wouldn’t persuade her. The Knicks weren’t playing.
We had a blast watching the warm-ups. Seeing Joakim Noah up close and Taj and Brewer taking practice shots were treats even though D.Rose didn’t come out until later. We camped out in row one for a good fifteen minutes until an usher asked us if we had tickets for the front row. Next time, we need to stand in row two. Lesson learned.
We then moved back up close to the ceiling seats. Where we still had fun. Just being in the crowd with a good handful of Bulls fans in Philly made it exciting. And edgy! In the end, D. Rose sat out the last quarter and the Bulls couldn’t recover from the lead they lost early on. Oh well. The girls and I got air brush tattoos, the kids ate cotton candy, and we saw a really freaky half-time show of a woman acrobat who bent in ways that made my stomach queazy. The best part of the whole show was during an officials’ time out, where a bunch of guys ran and then jumped off trampolines to do fun dunks before landing on a gymnastics mat. Oh, and seeing Rose dunk in the first quarter. Too strong, too fast…too tired this time around. Oh well. We all have off days.
As we left the Wells Fargo Sports Arena and set out to drive the two plus hours back home, the girls slept and hubby and I discussed some of the highlights and low moments of the Bulls’ performance that night. And that’s when I knew that it didn’t matter who won the game. We came because we love the Bulls. But even more. We love the sport.
A good friend said of me when I was about eight months pregnant with my first child:
“Look at Rajdeep. She used to play baskeball. Now she swallowed the basketball!”
Four “basketballs” later, we have our girls’ team! And when the last two came, we had to switch to zone defense. Yes, we apply the game to many aspects of life. On the court or off, we often quote Jordan and tell our kids, “You miss 100% of the shots you never take.”
Life’s too short not to take your shot. And in the words of #23, only those who try actually have a shot at succeeding.
** So how about you? Do you have a favorite team? Or sport? How old were you when you first started playing?
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Let’s do it!! Can the parents play too!! 🙂 Thanks Caroline! … Just beware of the Daddy whose daughter gets fouled!! LOL!! 😉
This is perfect! Too sweet! I can feel your joy through the writing! Great pictures and the family looks awesome!!!! Absolutely beautiful family! We gotta take you guys on …my family of boys vs your family of girls )))
Game on !
Thanks Cuban Blondie!!! I’m sold on a great love story…and can’t help but be thankful for my real live love story…don’t think I’ll ever be able to top it any novel I write. What do they say? Nuttin but the real thang baby!! More to come…It’s Valentine’s Month after all!!
Plain and simple! Romantic!
Love the autobiographical twist of this vignette!!
MORE!!!