Chapter One
It stood there. It was looming over my measly body. Its silence was making a mockery out of me. It did not sway with the wind, as if it was challenging me. It was daring me to face it. I looked up. The shadow casted by the moonlight fell over me. I felt colder than I was supposed to be. Soon enough, the light of the moon was enveloped with black clouds. The moment just came down to me and the hoop ten feet high.
I dropped the ball and allowed it to bounce while I crack my knuckles. Psyching oneself is misleading and yet at times effective at preparing oneself for the task at hand. Was it wrong to take every challenge to heart? Or is it even more wrong to take everything as a challenge? I dribbled the ball around my legs allowing my hands to adjust to the cold hard surface of the ball. I could feel the sharp texture that the ball had.
I was alone on the court that night. In fact I was not even supposed to be out on the court in the first place. It was after hours. The court lights had been turned off for a few hours now. I did not care, it was the way I liked it. Empty. No one lived nearby so I was in theory not disturbing anyone. As for the pedestrians, as long as they heard the constant dribble, they had nothing to worry about. It is when silence ensues, that paranoia follows.
I felt that I had procrastinated shooting the ball enough. My confidence in my shot had waivered. It was something that I would avoid when I could have. However, the game is not meant for people who are afraid to take the shot. Risks had to be measured. It has to be weighed with one’s abilities then the proper course of action ought to be formulated and carried out. It seems to be the logical way of things.
What good is taking upon a risk that one’s ability cannot handle? One might even see it as suicide but I disagree. Even in suicide, the desired result is achieved. This sort of pointless risk yields nothing but loss. Only a lesson is learnt, but at great costs. One cannot afford to risk the ball by shooting prematurely and missing the window of opportunity. Nor can one afford to hold the ball and ponder whether or not he should take it or not. Thinking helps, above anything else, however we hardly have the time to think; even rarer in the heat of the moment. To make matters simpler, I had to figure out how good my ability was.
Depending upon the level of my ability would I be in a better position to estimate and calculate the odds against me. I imagine that for a soldier too would have to know what he could and could not do. I needed to see how good I was, onl then could I deduce which path I should take and from which I should withdraw. Any coach would agree to the fact than one should play to one’s strength and turn his weaknesses into his strengths.
Such pretty words, however, hardly anyone achieves in conveying of how to accomplish such a feat. Perhaps one could argue that as every individual differs from one another and so do their strengths and weaknesses. Such diversity would call upon diverse answers, and if that is the case then would not figuring it out on your own be the appropriate solution? After all every would in essence possess the skills and tools necessary to do so. It just takes time and effort. The same thing we use to purchase anything.
Investment. That is what my teacher used to say. Give something now to gain something later. In due course of time, all economic activities can be broken down to this. Despite the redundantly sounding theories I came to learn and understand the subtle differences. I was able to appreciate the small nuances that existed. These measures give rise to cross discipline and that is the forefront of progress.
I could run, but not that fast. I could jump but not that high. I could shoot but not that straight. I had been rendered useless. Who knew that an injury could take a sport away? But then again, is that not what happens to sport stars at the height of their career? Even superman came crashing down. I found it amusing that I was seeking similarities and commonality with these people. It was good for my ego I guess. I was not all that good in basketball to begin with. After the injury I was just worse.
On the court that night I had to figure out if I was truly useless. Is there anything that I can offer in the field? There ought to be something. In such a complex game, that requires timing, precision and teamwork, there is bound to be something for me to offer. The possibilities are limitless. However, what good am I if someone else can do it> apologist might argue on the ground that the fact that I am the one doing it alone should suffice. True, I am set apart from the rest as it would be me who is doing the deed at the time in question. By doing it, I am entitled to its glory and shame. Nevertheless people overlook the second stage of accomplishment. A proverb etched onto my journal serving as a subtle reminder of the fact that it takes talent to get to the top but character to stay there.
As of that moment I did not have that talent, let alone the character. Or did i? I took my stance and maintained my stability. I looked at the net less hoop. The red paint was almost worn off. The paint of the board had faded and was scattered with marks of dirty balls. This was my objective, my target. The obstacle I would have to overcome every day. Was I ready? Could I ever be ready? I gripped the ball to guide it through the air.
The ball left my fingers and glided through the air to the board. It bounced off the board within the markings of the square. It then bounced off the hoop and fell onto the ground. It was not a score. I had missed. I had failed. Miserably.
I walked to the ball and picked it up. It was the first shot of the night. It did not matter. I needed to loosen up. Practice a bit. Warm up, which I thought that I already had. Apparently it was not enough. I dribbled the ball and moved closer to the board; shortening the distance that stood against us. I shot again. The ball bounced off the board and in through the hoop. Score!
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Who breaks, pays.
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