One of Michael Jordan’s many quotes is, “to learn to succeed, you must first learn to fail.” This one phrase perfectly sums up my entire ten years of basketball. I don’t know about you, but I hate failure. However, there is a lot of truth to the idea that failure leads to success. Without the bitter taste of failure in my mouth at a young age, I would’ve never had a craving for success.
My basketball career did not start out with loads of talent and promise. My parents did not toss me into a recreational league just to keep me occupied on the weekends only to find a hidden talent — that came later, but I still lacked talent. I started at 8-years-old, in a driveway, with my big brother, a kid-size ball and an adjustable hoop just hoping to have a bit of fun every now and again. Just kidding. Most of that is true, except that kid-size ball was actually a men’s ball, and that adjustable hoop was “broken” every time I wanted to use it. My brother is ten years older than me, and like most siblings had a knack for annoying his little sister. Besides the fact that I was younger, smaller and had never touched a basketball, he also took advantage of my inability to change the height of the hoop. It always remained at the highest height possible. Not only did I have to use all my strength just to get the ball to the hoop, but I also had to get it past my very tall brother. Let’s just say I learned the meaning of defense at a very young age. He made nothing easy. This brings me back to that idea of failure before success. I failed many times against my brother before I was ever able to have even a little taste of success.
In spite of all my brother’s attempts to annoy me (which he never failed), I kept on following him outside to that driveway trying to get that ball to the hoop. Maybe I would have come around to basketball eventually without my brother, but I probably would not have become the player I am if he had let me lower the hoop, win a game of “horse” or didn’t block every single one of my shots. But don’t be fooled, the failure doesn’t stop there.
This is where the recreational league, but no hidden talent comes into play. Although I had a bit of a one up on the other girls because of my brother and my left-hand shooting, I was certainly not the best player. I had no aggression, was too scared to go after the ball and I had no speed in my little legs. Initially, I saw nothing wrong with this. I was having fun kind of playing a sport I liked, until I tried out for my middle school team in 6th grade. I didn’t really have high hopes for making the team because I knew there were others that were better than me. Despite my realistic and mature expectations, I was still a bit crushed that I failed to make the team. Instead of giving up, I attended the Providence College basketball summer camp for girls. Although I could barely walk after the first full day, I eventually finished the week with more developed skills and aggression that began to mold me as a player. With more confidence in my abilities, I attended tryouts once again as a 7th grader.
Sadly, the story of failure continues where the skills I had still weren’t enough. To add to the disappointment, this was the same year I had my first injury almost shattering my left knee cap in rec. league. Sitting on a bench for two weeks was agony, and anyone who has done the same will probably agree. This was a real turning point — no seriously, I swear it gets better from here. I decided in that moment nothing was going to stop me from playing. I patiently waiting for my injury to heal, once again returned to basketball camp that summer and the following, and I finally made it onto the school team in 8th grade. As a team, we were unstoppable. We went on to the championship, but regrettably fell short in the end. I continued to taste success when I tried out for and made my high school team all 4 years with a knack for 3-point shots and was captain my senior year. 
However, there was a little hiccup my junior year. Only a week or so into the season, it was the night of our injury fund game. Everything was going well, until I was running down the court and felt a little tug in a muscle in my thigh. I didn’t think much of it, and anyone who knows me knows I tend to ignore pain and injury so I can keep playing. A couple of days later I could barely walk, went to a doctor and found out I sprained a muscle that would keep me out half the season. I was not ready to sit on the bench for a day, let alone half the season. I would have tried my best to continue through the pain, except I was told if I did just that I would be sitting out a whole season or more.
Sitting on the bench once again felt like the worst kind of torture, but after weeks of physical therapy I eventually got back on the court. I had only been nervous one other time in all the years I played basketball, but amount of butterflies in my stomach on the bus ride to my first game after the injury was uncanny. My fingers were shaking as I laced up my sneakers and put on my warm-up. Luckily the minute I stepped on the court and the game began, everything came rushing back, and it was like I was never gone. My team went on to win the state championship that year, and we expected nothing less the following year. We accepted the challenge for back-to-back state wins, gave the fans just what they wanted, and now I proudly display those medals everywhere I go.
So as you can see, my history with basketball was not paved with talent and glory. Instead it was hard work, determination, blood, sweat and tears –even if it sounds like a cliché. I tasted failure quite a bit, but I proved myself worthy and I will continue to do that any time, any where, against any one. I might not win, but I’ll give you a run for your money. Don’t underestimate a girl who learned from failure rather than success.
Misses to Swishes 