I have a good number of dreams in which I’m playing basketball. They’re my favorite dreams – for one, they actually make sense and two, I have fun in the dreams.

Basketball was an important part of my late childhood/adolescent years. I started playing in 6th grade when I was 12 and really liked it. I practiced my jump shot over the summer and really improved by the 7th grade. I remember when my dad installed a real basketball hoop in our driveway. It had a cement pole leading up to the metal backboard that was shaped like a half circle. The orange rim was so pretty against the white of the backboard. And I loved hanging that soft nylon net from the little hooks in the rim. The net felt like velvet. The feel of a new basketball, size 28.5 inches, in my hands was such a thrill, the orange leather dotted with those one millimeter grips and the smooth black stripes encasing the ball all around. I used to love spinning the ball in my hands. Bouncing it on the driveway pavement was incredible too, feeling it spring up and down in my hand. I loved that sound of dub-dub-dub. And ahh, the even more exhilarating sound of the ball swooshing through that soft nylon net – “swiiisssh.” I loved hearing it and seeing it – the ball touching net only. Hence the saying “nothing but net.”

I practiced a LOT that summer between 6th and 7th grade. I spent many hot hours out there in the driveway perfecting my jump shot, ball handling skills, free throws, lay-ups, and even defensive slides. I even kept a little log book. Some days I’d shoot a thousand free throws. It’s funny looking back now. I’d actually find myself bored at times back then. Full summer days with nothing to do but play basketball, ride a bike, walk on the beach, read, and watch TV. What I wouldn’t give to do that now.

Basketball was a lot of fun for me. The movement pattern was neat. I really enjoyed practicing it and seeing myself get better. I got quite good into high school actually. My high school team didn’t have enough clout to field a varsity team, so we remained JV (junior varsity) up until my junior year. But we dominated. And it was a blast. Our point guard was a 7th grader who was very talented. We also had an 8th grade center who was athletic. I was the shooting guard. As a team, we were small in stature. But we were quick. We prided ourselves on being able to disperse upon getting a rebound and fill the lanes (imaginary lines down the court) quickly. We could run the floor for a fast break and get to the other end for a lay-up before the other team had time to react or set up their defense. We also had a pretty good full-court press called “55.” Two of us would trap the ball on the sideline once it was inbounded and then one person would shift over for a steal if the ball were to be passed to the weak-side guard. Further down the court, a teammate would look out for a long pass and intercept it. I get excited just thinking about it. It was so much fun back then. We were the champions of the TCIS (Tidewater Conference of Independent Schools) that year (at the JV level). 

Varsity was a bit tougher. Walsingham Academy and Norfolk Collegiate were the powerhouses in our conference. We started the season strong my junior year, 13-0. We did so well that we drew the attention of the local news. It was the first varsity team fielded by our school in about 3 or 4 years. The day after the news came to see our practice and interview us, we lost to Catholic on our home floor. Ouch. We played terribly for some reason. I was infuriated. We came back a few months later to beat them in the tournament quarterfinals on their home court. We then lost to Norfolk Collegiate in the semifinals. We made the state tournament that year too, for the first time in school history. We beat Portsmouth Christian in the quarterfinals. I made a record six three pointers that game. It was a blast. We later lost to Walsingham in the semifinals.

When we were hot, we were hot. I remember though, there were times when we’d be cold. It was ugly, like we’d lost our groove. I remember looking up at the scoreboard as games would seem to drift out of our reach. Sometimes two points by the other team would quickly turn into four then six…then ten. The victory would fade out of our reach. I don’t know that we ever came back from large deficits. I would feel a burning in my chest and basically feel all my life leave out of me as I ran up and down the court trying to keep up with the other team. Sometimes my legs felt heavy and slow. Every missed shot was like a shot to my chest and full of despair. Losing was rough. I’d go home at night and replay all the missed opportunities – the missed shots and turnovers, my fouls. It was sad.

Basketball was absolute joy when we were hot, though. I remember the times when it just felt like I and my teammates played so well with one another. Sometimes our defense was so tight that we’d steal the ball left and right from the other team. We’d fast break and get lay-ups quickly, like it was nothing. I loved having a hot hand, especially for 3-pointers.

I remember once we beat a homeschool team 100-10. That’s right. 100-10. One wonders if we were that good or they were that bad. I do remember a girl on the other team literally passing the ball to one of us.

Home games were the most fun, especially when we were hot. We had the most beautiful gym in the conference. The purple bleachers could seat hundreds of people. Center court had a big yellow “C” painted through the mid-court line, which was black. A black circle encased the C. There were purple pads across from the hoops on each end of the court, in the event a player needed to run into the wall from momentum. The bright orange rims glistened against the squeaky-clean glass of the backboards. The backboards and baskets themselves hung from the ceiling by strong black bars. And those hardwood floors, beige and squeaky clean. I loved the sound of the “squeak-squeak” of players’ shoes running back and forth across them. The sound of the referee’s whistles. I used to love the adrenaline rush and passion felt when in a close game on our home court. The crowd would howl and whistle. Sometimes it would be hard to hear the whistles of the referees or the hollering of our coach. The best feeling in the world was when we were pulling away for a win. It was pure joy. I especially loved it when we’d beat an arrogant team. For the most part we weren’t arrogant. It was cool too when my classmates showed up for the games. Daniel, David, Michael, and others. And it was all the better especially when we played before the varsity boys. They could watch us. And it was good to see my parents enjoying the game as well. I was close to some of my teammates’ parents too. I wonder how they’re all doing now.

Back then basketball was my world. A win would light up my night and make me feel on top of the world. Losses were horrible – they were like a reflection of my self-worth. I seemed to take losing harder than my teammates did. But I also wanted desperately to play in college. It’s for the better that college ball didn’t work out for me. I participated in the six-week pre-season practices and work outs at Virginia Wesleyan College back in the fall of 2007. I quickly realized that the girls I was surrounded by weren’t nearly as awesome as my high school teammates. And I wasn’t into drinking and partying. It was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever had to make, but I honestly haven’t once regretted giving up college basketball. Quitting allowed me to take hold of some other things. I transferred to a different school (a much more affordable public university), focused on my grades, and took the time to foster some friendships that I still have to this day (including that of my husband), who I started dating in 2008. He’s the one who told me to “drop that crap” (playing college ball). I finished college with no student loan debt (thanks to my parents). And I was able to coach some JJV basketball at my alma mater for a few years during that time.

I am thankful for the lessons basketball taught me: perseverance, sportsmanship, self-worth (that it’s not based on my performance or skill), how to lose, teamwork, how to win, talent vs hard work, etc. I’m grateful for the occasional dreams I have about basketball these days. They’re fun. I would like to play again; I think it’d be a lot of fun to play in an adult rec league. I’m a little afraid of a torn ACL, though. Maybe I can just go shoot some hoops to scratch the itch. I’d love to coach again too. It’s a great way to encourage young girls and if I’m lucky I might get to play a little with them (if I can keep up!). I’ve already started thinking that when I have a kid, I very well might put a mini basketball in his or her little hands early on, just to point him/her in the right direction. ~