How It All Started.
Normally, I’m not one for assumptions. To be honest my mother has a profane lesson regarding the matter. However, I’m sure we all can remember our first love. No matter how the experience may have ended up, it in some way may have impacted us. I never knew that I’d meet my first love at four years old in Cooks Children’s Hospital.
To be honest I was still taken aback by the fact that I was going to be a patient in the first place. I went in for a normal check up and the doctor informed me that I needed to have open-heart surgery. My response “You mean to tell me something is wrong with my heart and not Vinnie’s?” (My little sister) “When God makes hearts, he’s suppose to make them right.”
In the recovery process a few days after my surgery I was accompanied by my big brother Kell and my Dad to the small basketball goal in the play area of the hospital. As they began to shoot I followed suit. When my mother returned and saw me shooting she was in an uproar seeing that I was lifting my arms up to shoot. I could have reopened my incision. Thankfully I didn’t. At the time I didn’t understand that, all I knew was that I was having fun and that this game intrigued me.
Don’t Come Between, Ever.
Fast forward a bit I began to play little league basketball at the local YMCA. During my elementary years, it was the only thing that occupied my thoughts. My favorite days were when the coach would open up the small garage in the gymnasium and throw out random contents it held.
Jump ropes, soccer balls, those little scooter things that you sit or lay down on, and if you ran over your fingers it hurt like hell; but most importantly basketballs. One particular day coach had just began to throw out the basketballs and I got to shoot around for about 5-10 minutes before I was summoned to the choir room for rehearsal for an upcoming Christmas concert at the mall. I was livid! I didn’t give a damn about singing Christmas carols.
Of course, I wanted to attend the field trip don’t get me wrong, but on the other hand, this rehearsal was cutting into intimate time with my first love. I had expressed my disdain to some fellow classmates on the walk to the choir room and was later ambushed with the exact words I had uttered, but by the choir teacher. “So is there something you need to talk to me about? Set me straight on?” I was shocked! How could she have known the words I spoke? Being the humble southern belle that I am I humbly replied, “No, ma’am.” Ha! The embarrassment.
Adolescence.
In time my parents bought us a basketball goal and we continued to play little league ball at the local YMCA. From time to time I would have to wear an EKG monitor home to check the consistency of my heartbeat. Seeing that the original inner workings of my heart and lungs weren’t proficient before the surgery, they wanted to make sure it was corrected after.
I would spend many days after school and weekends in the front yard with my siblings hooping. My first nemesis on the court was my big brother Kell. Seeing that he has eight years on me you can imagine how our one on one sessions went. I got my butt handed to me over and over again. I hated that crap!
The number of tears, skinned knees, and “I hate you’s” expressed on that court built a resilience I still have to this day. If there were a movie to describe my disdain for that time it would be Hot Rod starring Andy Samberg. In which his main objective is to raise enough money for his step-father’s heart transplant surgery, in order to kick his ass and earn his respect. My skills progressed while I played many summers at the Y with my little sister Vinnie and also with the neighborhood kids.
My favorite hardwood classic film was about Michael Jordan and his progression in the game and how he overcame the adversity of being cut from his high school team. MJ and Kobe Bryant were the two players I looked up to the most when I was a kid, and still to this day. I also spent many hours watching the And 1 series and found myself mimicking the moves in my bedroom before practicing them in the front yard with my brother Kell and big cousin Ricky.
Finding My Place.
My days at Morningside Middle were some of the most fun times I ever had. Between the teachers, dances, and now that I’m older questionable curriculum, I must say it was a blast! It made the early morning practices and staying after school for practices a breeze. I was doing what I loved and I got to have fun doing it.
My teammates were awesome! It was the first time I had ever played with an all girl team. At this time I still had to wear the heart monitor home on occasion and I was never cleared by the regular school physicals to play. It was always required to be cleared by my primary physician. On the bright side, I didn’t have to take medication any longer, so I learned to roll with the punches. During practices and games I normally played SG or PF, the paint and mid-range were my strengths. We all worked very well together thanks to our coaches and our PG April Serrano.
She was a true gift on the court and an all-around great player and leader. When we would go to tournaments our school bus was lit! We had quite a camaraderie. We did well, typically placing in 1st through 3rd depending on the tournament. Our regular season was also pretty decent. Our hardest games were always Wedgewood and Dunbar. Dunbar has always been well known for their athletic program. Taking an L from them always sucked. Especially when it was at home seeing that the next day you had to hear about it from your peers.
The day we all received our lettermen jacket we thought we were so cool, you couldn’t tell us anything. This was my first taste of being a “cool kid” a “jock”. In school, I was mostly quiet and a bit of a bookworm so this was a nice change up for me. We all graduated middle school and went our own way to our perspective high schools. The last time I saw April was when we later played each other in high school when I made it to Varsity.
After the game, we shared a hug and a small convo and that was it. I was deeply saddened to hear of her passing, especially in the malicious way it happened. She will always be remembered as one of my favorite female Point Guards. Rest easy Angel.
New Levels.
Over the summer before high school, I attended basketball camp to prepare for the upcoming season. I knew that high school was a different ball game and if I wanted to play varsity I would have to work extra hard to make the team. I had earned my stripes at Morningside and I planned to do the same at Southwest. Freshmen season went well, I jelled with my new team members. It was the year I met my best friend Jamiesha.
We mostly played PF and C interchangeable. As time progressed I was pushed more toward the outside wing as Shooting Guard because of my height. Once a week Freshmen, JV, and Varsity would all practice together. Although the many battles in the front yard with my brother and cousin had primed me for this moment I did find myself being nervous.
That soon subsided. The hunger kicked in. One of the triggers for that was one of the stars on Varsity. Miss. Wynn! She had such tenacity for the game. We shared that feeling. The Varsity team my Freshmen and Sophmore years were full of talent, but the teammates would always seem to clash. Now I’m not saying everything should be Kumbaya, hell I’m even one for friendly competition but they would bicker to the detriment of the team. Quite toxic.
Mighty Six!
Sophomore year came and most of the girls with the exception of a few faces returned for the following season. During this time conditioning had intensified and we were more than often prompted to run on the track for cardio. I hated that shit! For one, while running I just could not stay out of my head and for two, why can’t we just do this on the inside? Seeing the basketball goals always worked as a bit of motivation for me.
At times while conditioning yes, I would have chest pains but I wasn’t going to let my parents, coach, or doctors know that. All throughout my career playing basketball up to this point, doctors had warned against me playing high schools sports saying that it would be too strenuous on my heart. I believe in God for my destiny, not man. That’s why while they would advise me I would listen, but I knew I was playing for a grander purpose. Belief in self.
While playing JV I once again had to face my old nemesis, Dunbar. We had already lost to them once in the season and it was time for us to play them again but this time at their house. Their gym. The comments surrounding the game that day at school were heinous. “They bout to kick yall ass”, “Yall bout to take another L”, blah, blah blah. Hearing one or two comments throughout the day fine, but at every turn? We were being pestered.
This began to piss me off through out the day because I had yet to defeat Dunbar during my years of playing. When the school day concluded and it was time to board the school bus to attend the game I zoned out and listened to my music for encouragement. The freshmen team played first and won. It was then our turn to take the court. Only six of us played that night and the gym was undeniably warmer than usual. A terrible mistake on my opponent’s behalf, the conditions reminded me of the summers playing one on one outside with my brother.
Real Texans know how the summers can be and the gym that night held in comparison. I watched the game for a minute per usual, then coach turned and asked “If I was ready” I replied “Yes”. When I entered the game the momentum of the floor shifted immensely. All the aggression, all the anger, and all the passion I had for the game spilled out onto the court. When halftime came we were up by double digits and I was exhausted. I had pushed myself pretty hard. I walked into their dressing room and laid my body down on the cold cement and it felt and sounded as if my body sizzled.
Looking at the ceiling and inhaling as much air as my lungs would allow, I remember nodding to myself that we could pull through the rest of the game with the W. When the half concluded we returned to the court with the same tenacity. The opposing teams’ coach was pissed! This contributed to further frustration in her players and they began to unravel, I enjoyed every moment of it. As the game concluded I ended with 16 points, 5 rebounds, 2 blocks, and 1 steal. I had had one of my best games ever! My parents, sister, brother, and Varsity team all got to witness how the mighty six took down Dunbar.
After the game, the varsity coach approached me and congratulated me on my performance and the win. I was already on cloud 9 but her compliment solidified that this was one of my best games and I was flabbergasted she liked what she saw. Ah, 16-year-old Princess, bright-eyed and filled with hope.
Ill Advised.
As the season concluded I was requested more often to attend the varsity practices along with playing in some of the off-season tournaments to stay in shape. As the summer came and went I continued working on my game only to find that an impending visit from the physician would bring on some unfortunate news.
The season before my Junior year my primary physician didn’t want to clear me to play; it was against his medical advice. I was crushed. On the ride home with my mom, I was inconsolable. The tears would not stop streaming from my eyes. All my life I was told I shouldn’t do this but it was all I could think about.
I breathed basketball. I lived basketball. It was my everything. After seeing the pain I felt my mother reiterated that although it was against the doctors advise in the end God is in control. I worked every day that summer to get better and better when the season came, I took my place on Varsity and claimed the #21. I was acquainted with most of the players on the team from previous practices and scrimmages. My best friend Jamiesha made the team also so I had all hopes ahead for a good season. I was wrong.
Saying Goodbye.
When a player is made to feel that people don’t believe in them or their talents it may be easy to shrug off. When your COACH shows you and treats you as if you are disposable, now that can really weigh on a player. I was a faithful player, diligent, hard-working, I never missed practice.
On the other side of the coin my new teammates, mostly seniors, at times would be late to practice, leave early, and sometimes not even attend. Although they would do these things they would still receive more playing time than me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t compete, trust, I could. It was just for some odd reason the Varsity coach refused to put me in the game. Sometimes the entire game would happen right in front of me and I would never even get a chance to touch the court besides in the warmup. I had to watch my love being dangled right out in front of me game after game.
My parents, especially my mom was just as puzzled as I was when I didn’t receive the playing time I felt I deserved. You can imagine my frustration. The varsity coach knew of my unhappiness and would have talks with me inside of her office to convince me her methods were best and that she was looking for me to lead the team next year. Lead the team next year? You want me to sit down, bite my tongue, and wait?
Why the hell would I sit around until the following season when all my life I had worked my ass off to get to this point? The tension between her and I began to rise over the course of that season because I couldn’t be swayed by her sugar-coated lies. Here actions and coaching method showed me everything I needed to know. I started to resent her and the team. I felt all the hard work I had put in over the years was just that WORK.
I finished the lackluster season with the understanding in my head that I was done. I had my fill. When I relayed my decision in the off-season, of course, she tried to reason with me and asked me to stay and play but she had already treated me as if I was expendable so I felt things would proceed as normal without me. I received my letterman and wore it occasionally but I didn’t have the same satisfaction in it as when I received it at Morningside.
It wasn’t that I didn’t feel I deserved it, I just hated it wasn’t the way I had always dreamed it to be. Glorious. I see it now more so as a badge of honor. I earned something that I was told I should never even have had the shot at. I feel blessed.
The Future.
Of course, me and my first love still have our rendezvous in the park and in the gym. I play a pickup game, or one on one here and there with a co-worker. I’ve found new joy in the game because now my nephews want to learn how to play and I can help teach them with their father, my brother Kell. When I have my children I will share my love of the game with them as well. I could never let go, I love the game to much.
Hoop dreams. Love.