Michael & Liz are Bloggable

Growing up I played almost any sport I could get involved with. Soccer. Basketball. Baseball. Tennis. Track and Field. Cross Country. Etc. Etc. My interest, enjoyment, and talent would probably be listed in the same order as well.

I had no illusions about how average I was at Cross Country and Track. Much like how I am today, I was decent at running but I mostly fed off of my competitive nature and unwillingness to quit.

I was very good at tennis, but when you take the sport up at the age of 17, you really don't compare to the players who began 10 years earlier. I'd say I held my own.

I was good at baseball as well, but then they started throwing curveballs in high school, and I was not interested (or capable) in hitting those. I can remember the exact moment too. 3 pitches. 3 curveballs. 3 swings. 1 out.

Soccer and basketball are different stories though. I played both sports all year round, enjoyed them immensely, and was usually one of the best players on any of the teams. In my mind, I was equally skilled and accomplished in both, that is until recently.

When I got to high school, my freshmen year in soccer I was the last man on the varsity bench, which sounds terrible but is actually really good for a freshmen. I got some playing time my sophomore year on a team that was consistently ranked #1 in the state. Starting my junior year, I was one of the main contributors on the team and during my senior year was the captain and starting sweeper. My point in describing this, is that at the time I felt I was great at soccer and looking back, I believe that to still be true.

Basketball is a different story though. I played point guard my freshmen and sophomore years for the freshmen team and junior varsity team. I was on the right track. Junior and senior years though, when I made varsity, I rode the bench.

I heard one college basketball player a few years ago refer to himself as the "human victory cigar". When the game was no longer in doubt, he was sent in just to get a few minutes of playing time. That's who I was. You know when the crowd starts chanting the name of the guy who never plays and rarely gets a shot, in order to see him come in and make a miraculously worthless 3-pointer to end the game? That was all me, junior year especially.

I felt shafted, wronged, and treated unfairly. BASKETBALL WAS MY SPORT! I was supposed to be better than a human victory cigar! I stuck out 2 years of hustling the hardest in practices, winning all the wind sprints when everyone is exhausted, doing everything I could to prove myself, only to get the best and most comfortable seat in the house on Friday nights. I spent many hours throughout those winters contemplating the one thing I would hate the most, quitting.

I spent many years of my adult life completely oblivious to reality... until today.

I have some basketball videos from high school that I watched this week for the first time in... ever. It was a massive slice of humble pie. My contributions to the team were not fast-breaks, lay-ups, and 3-pointers. They were turnovers, fouls, and 3-point bricks. I'm surprised I played as much as I did.

I had this coddled self-image that all along I was a great point guard who was valuable to the team when really I was being treated as I deserved to be treated. The varsity bench was meant for me. I was certainly good enough to make the team, there's no doubt about that. I had skills, but I was nowhere near the great player I thought I was. The person playing ahead of me DESERVED to be playing, and I did not. Here I thought all along that my coach was wronging me, when really he was passively giving me the truth of the matter.

For a decade now, I had looked at my basketball experience as a growth opportunity. Here I was, sticking it out, refusing to quit in the face of injustice. That experience and the feelings I once held will always be inside of me as something I had felt I had gone through. But now that I've watched myself and seen myself through the eyes of a camera, I've learned a whole new additional lesson.

It just makes me realize that I am not the person I think I see standing in the mirror. No one is. We can't be judges of ourselves no matter how great or terrible we think we may be. Sometimes someone in your life who cuts to the chase and gives you direct criticism is just as valuable as someone who is a constant encouragement. I think we all could use a dish of both, hold the humble pie.