(Continuing from Part Three: Freshman Year)
After a season as slow and miserable as my freshman year, I did not think that another year of basketball was even remotely possible for me. In many ways, I was already done and felt that it was time to throw the towel in and call my career a no-go. I joined the newspaper staff given the fact that it was something that I had really enjoyed doing in the past, and the fact that our school paper was quite awesome did help as well.
Other than the being part of the Matador staff, I realized that I had nothing else to really hold onto. In all honesty, most (if not all) of my close friends were part of the team and after an entire year of spending time with them, I was not sure if I was ready to leave them. I thought about my time and decided to give it another a chance, perhaps another year to clear up the upset that was freshman year. So, right after the freshman campaign, it was a GO! GO! GO!
The next step was summer league, a place where I would really fall in love with defense. After a year of playing defense and mainly defense, my offensive game quickly depleted. But at the same time by defense was impeccable and Coach Jason Meador, the boys' varsity coach was noticing.
I got my first ever start during a contest held at the older gym at Mark Keppel High. I still remember the nerves that went through my body when my coach called my name in the pre-game huddle. When it occurred, my lunch felt like it was coming back up.
Then in a blink of an eye I was on the center court, waiting for the tip-off: an event that seemed and looked so different from that spot where I was standing. I never knew how it felt to be on the court in an actual contest, I have only seen this from the sidelines, it was surreal and quite terrifying.
"You got the point guard Marvin. He gets nothing easy," my coach said.
From that point on, I knew what I needed to contribute to the team, the one thing that can prove that this was not all a waste of time but actually worth while.
We lost the tip, the ball landed in the hands of the opposing point guard, and the game was on.
I locked my eyes on the guards chest, a point of the body that cannot shift like the arms, legs, or ball. Where ever the chest goes, the body goes. I observed that he was right-handed so I forced him left and he tried going back right. And so it was a dance. I force him left, he goes back right, I cut him off, he goes back left.
When he crosses the half court mark, I have him where I want him until he passes the ball. Now I am on the help side. Watching him with my peripheral vision as I keep my sight on the ball as well. He gets the ball back but exposes it too much. He fumbles it, I reach but I do not touch it; In a moment of panic, he tries to get it away from him...too late. We have the possession now and we are able to score.
The feeling was exhilarating, and it was only the first play!
What I did not know was that my enemy was not going to be the point guard that I was trying to lock down but rather my own incapability to keep up with the flow of the game. Who knew that basketball is actually that tiring? Well as a player who averages a minute in two contest, I had no clue.
Within three to five minutes of doing the little tango with my offender, I was winded and needed to be subbed out. However, I got a hand shake from Coach and that made the whole thing worth while. We ended losing the game but for our team, we had played decently. I had not scored anything but I was not worried about it. I had my hands all over the the opposition and that made all of the difference. It felt good to finely feel like I could do something to help the team.
In the next game I only scored two points, and in the next just one. It was a pattern that I was willing to live with as long as I got the minutes I deserved and the respect from my teammates that I had always wanted. And I did.
All was well except for the fact that the winning team of any basketball game is the team that scores more points than the other and I guess scoring did matter. Eventually my Coach did move me back to the bench given the fact that my offense was really dragging. As confident as I was as a defender, I was terrified as a offense player. The team was literally playing four guys to five when I was on the court. When I touched the ball, I wanted to get rid of it, there was really no rhyme or reason to what I did on the court offensively, it is pretty hilarious thinking about it in retrospect. I took off from the free throw line when I went up for lay-ups, I threw up wild jumpers, and I really had no three point rage.
I sincerely excepted my role as a reserve and it all just felt right. The summer gave me a purpose to be on the team and it felt great to have some confidence and direction. I just hoped that it would last but for the rest of the summer, I milked out all the time that I had on the floor and seriously got the reputation of a lock-down defender. Things were really looking up and I was glad for the time it lasted.
To Be Continued...
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