As the final buzzer sounded, I looked around the gym for the last time as a member of the Pioneer Basketball team. Walking through the handshake line, looking up at the scoreboard, tears welled in my eyes. My basketball career came down to seven points. My lucky number had become my downfall.
Basketball and I have always been a pair. Since I was seven, finding a weekend without a basketball in my hand has been rare. I started with one rec team to play on two concurrently and then jumped to travel. By seventh grade, I was known as “Kyrie, the Basketball Player.” For the last 10 years, basketball has been one of the only constants in my often hectic life. I always knew that no matter what was going on in my life, when I stepped into the gym, I could leave it at the door and funnel my emotions into the ball.
Basketball gave me resilience at a level I have yet to find in anything else. The sport got me through a pandemic, losing loved ones, the stress of school and countless injuries.
And somehow it was all over on a random Wednesday — all my hard work, my years of blood, sweat and tears—over. High school sports come with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. High school is the first time you are introduced to the concept of win or go home. What this ends up meaning is that 99% of teams end their season on a loss. The only way to avoid this is by winning, winning and winning. You have to keep winning until you make it to state championship, a feat we were never able to accomplish in my tenure.
While my time playing a high level of competitive basketball is over, my involvement in the sport is not; I will never stop playing basketball. Even if it’s just a pickup game at the YMCA, my time on the court is not over.
Three days after our loss, I found myself in the Slauson Middle School gym to watch my fourth-grade buddies play their Rec&Ed basketball game. The same gym that served as the breeding ground for my love of the sport. Watching the game was surreal as I saw parallels between the kids on the court and my younger self. As the second quarter ended the referees made their way over to me in the stands, recognizing me from so long ago on the same court. Shocked at how old I had become, we reminisced about my time playing until the third quarter beckoned them back to the game. As I left, I realized that basketball and I will always be intertwined.
