Letter to the basketball god

Dear Game,

More than a decade has passed since I first held you in my hand. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I saw you in our backyard; you looked lost, as if you were searching for a friend, a lover even. You aroused my curiosity and I picked you up as if you were my son, gently and passionately.

I started dribbling that ball as if there was no tomorrow. It was a lovers’ tryst, our first date. I started shooting. Before I knew it, 5 hours had passed and day became night. That day I only made 11 baskets. But I never stopped shooting ever since.

I have played basketball for almost 13 years now. From the very first time I picked up that ball, my life changed forever. Everything revolved around the Game. It is the very thing that saved me from vice. It taught me discipline; it made me a better man. It was the key to my life’s engine.

While some teenagers were taking drugs and drinking alcohol, I was at the court. Shooting 250 jump shots, working on my left hand, strengthening my dribble. Figuring out what else I could improve on.

My victories or defeats on the court reflected my life outside of it. There were times that you made me so miserable that I wanted to kill myself. But the joys you gave me were a more than fair compensation for the despair.

I am writing you this letter because for the past three months, I feel as if you’ve left me. The past 3 months have been the worst basketball summer of my life. For the first time I felt no zeal for the Game. This consumed me. Today, a part of me looks back in regret for ever picking up that ball. I don’t know what hurts more, losing or the fact that I could have tried harder.

I look at you only to find no peace of mind. The satisfaction you once gave me is now a mere shadow of its former self. Why?

The losses are much more deeply etched in me than the wins. It hurts a lot. I fight my urge to cry after every lost game. I can accept letting myself down, but I can’t accept letting my teammates down. I’m tired of it; I no longer felt the thirst. And for the first time in years, you didn’t inspire me.

Then I had an epiphany. I realized that I was lost, perhaps I still am. Everything crumbled around me. But you were always there for me. You never left my side. I was the one who let you down, by giving into vice, by treating you like my mistress when you wanted more. I set you aside for women. I sold out. I turned my back on you and it was my fault.

You aren’t a drunken father who’ll hit me. You aren’t a bully who’ll pick on me. You aren’t a friend who’ll betray me. You aren’t a girl who’ll scar me. You are my truth.

You are the father I never had, the brother that looked out for me. The mother I loved, the friend I always treasured and the lover I always aspired to have. You are my everything.

I ask myself, when can I say its time to quit? When I start nailing every single shot. When I start playing every single minute. When I start anticipating every single play. When I start winning every single game. But you can never do all these things. It’s impossible. That’s the beauty in you - you don’t stop, you never will.

You never left me. I left you only to find myself in your arms once again. You’ll never leave me and I won’t leave you again. At first I was afraid of change, because I built everything around you. I know now that no matter how much the times may change me, you'll always be there for me. Thank you Game, I love you.


In love and hoops,
Dabs