“Writing Origins: A Basketball Crossover”
People will ask me where my inspiration for writing comes from. My book series is about the journey of a small-town high school basketball team, and so naturally my experiences on the basketball court have played a major role. I’m grateful for what the game has taught me. Integrity, friendship, hard work, and courage. These are my life lessons learned, and the invisible threads that will bind me to the game forever. They’re the “feel good” parts of my story. There’s also another side of my basketball experience that, while regrettable, was equally impactful, and has proven to be just as important in shaping me into the person and writer I am today.
The toughest crossovers are the ones we don’t see coming.
The ball handler initiates his dribble from the three-point line near the top of the key, pushing the ball hard to the basket using his right hand. The defender works to stay in front of him by keeping his knees bent, hips low, arms out, and feet churning. Their teammates watch from spread out positions in the half court, wondering, like the spectators in the crowd, how the one-on-one isolation will unfold. As the ball handler crosses the free-throw line, he proceeds toward the right edge of the lane, when suddenly he switches the ball to his opposite hand and cuts hard to his left, now on a direct path to the rim. He smiles when he elevates, knowing his layup will be uncontested. The crowd cheers and his teammates rejoice, while his defender, head hung low, rises slowly from the floor. He fell down on the play, victim of a highlight-reel worthy, crossover dribble. A real ankle-breaker. He’s going to remember this one for a long time, but with the scoreboard clock still ticking, he brushes himself off, collects the inbounds pass, and proceeds up the court, knowing that his chance for atonement is only a play away.
If only we all could be so lucky.
There’s a collective truth which most participants of competitive athletics can attest to: you almost always lose your final game. Take my high school basketball career. Lucky for me, it’s a perfect example! No worries though, I’m totally over how it ended. All of us are. I never think about it, ever. All right, fine. If you want honesty then I’ll give it to you. Twenty-three years later and I still remember the date. March 14th, 1998. The Portage Warriors vs. the Monona Grove Silver Eagles. We were the #1 ranked team in Division 2 state basketball for most of the season, and facing an 8-loss opponent in the sectional final of the W.I.A.A. basketball playoffs. At stake was a birth in the state tournament at the newly opened Kohl Center, in Madison. It was the big game. The one that mattered most. The one we’d worked so hard to reach. With our school and town supporting us, it was supposed to be our defining moment. Instead, the game ended in a devastating loss, cementing us with the unfair and unfortunate legacy of a team that would always be remembered for what we didn’t accomplish.
We have crossovers in life, just as we do on the basketball court. With the close of each chapter comes the start of something new.
I miss the competition of sports. I miss the challenge of digging in with my mind, body, and spirit to complete an objective. The facets of our personality which draw us into competitive athletics don’t leave us when we walk away from the games we love. The key is figuring out how to roll the things we know, and the skills we’re good at into each successive phase of our life. The future is always filled with uncertainty, yet the memories we have of our experiences and accomplishments provide us with comfort. In the years I spent formulating my early writing ideas, I would always come back to the same questions: What do you know about? What do you enjoy? The answers were easy, even if I didn’t realize it from the start. If I hadn’t missed the game so much, I never would’ve started writing these books.
There are patterns we build into our lives. The secret to happiness at any age is learning to recognize and replicate the healthy ones.
The purpose of my writing is rooted in the bond I’ve had with the game of basketball dating back to my childhood. The life lessons of success and failure that I’ve learned on the court have influenced me as a working professional, husband, and father, in ways I never would’ve imagined possible as a youth. The friendships I’ve made throughout my basketball journey will remain with me forever, as will the connection I felt as a representative of my school and town. Many of my experiences occurred over twenty years ago, and still I remember them like they just took place last week. Most of all, I remember the boy. The one who saw the game slip away to a place he could never get it back from. The boy who one day, would decide to start running again, and who for years and years has kept at it, knowing there’s unfinished business left to complete. When and whether he’ll catch what he’s chasing remains to be seen, though at this point it seems less consequential, since he’s rediscovered something he never anticipated when he set out.
The thrill of running after it again.
Your insights are welcomed and appreciated!
- Todd
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