In the Long Run

I don't know exactly what motivated me to do it...

I mean, when I've pondered it...thought hard about it...spun it around on the tip of my finger...I am still not quite sure what made me do it!

In seventh grade I tried out for the girl's basketball team.
And made it.

Again, it may have been some crazy dream I had of playing against the Generals with Meadowlark Lemon or something...a Truth or Dare game gone awry...I dunno...but for some reason, I wanted to be on the team.

What I hadn't anticipated, however....was the practice time involved!!!

OH. MY. GOODNESS!

We practiced EVERY DAY! For like, 2 hours!!

Can You Believe It???!!!

And do you know what that sadistic, cruel coach made us do?

(Before you read the rest of this....please send your small children out of the room. Parental guidance....is more than suggested! This is truly horrifying information!)

He made us do these things where you run from foul lines and back...and half court and back... and Saskatchewan and back....and do you know what those are lovingly referred to as?

SUICIDES!

Every practice...we got to do those. Run like the wind...and folks...let me tell ya...there's a reason that the drill isn't called "Partytime"....or "Relaxicides".

They're brutal.

And...as if that wasn't enough....we had this other drill where we held a basketball palm up in each hand, arms outstretched...at shoulder level. For 2890834283789247 HOURS.

I Kid You Not.

I thought my arms would fall off!!

But I did it. I went to practice. Every day. I wasn't a starter on the team. I don't think you'd even consider me second string....but I did go to practice.

One afternoon, however, I did not go. Because Robert Sheehan invited me and some others over to his house. He lived three houses away from the jr. high.

It was quite easy for me to skip practice and hang out at Robert's for a couple of hours. No one would be the wiser.

I mean, c'mon....what would you do? Hangin' out with Robert was WAY more appealing than suicides and arm-numbing basketball holding...

I mean, what was the point of going to practice anyway?? I had played in a total of one basketball game. And I had used that valuable playing time to run the wrong way down the court! Luckily, no one passed the ball to me. I was like the 'invisible' guard or something!

I didn't see the payoff involved then, My Friends. I did not see the point of suicide runs and sweat and practicing every day...

The next day, after hanging out with Robert and the 'gang'...I quit the team. My heart just wasn't in it...

And neither was the fun factor. No one had made me understand the fun factor of practice.

That's because there really isn't one.

Practicing is....well....practical. It's not meant to be fun. That is, unless YOU make it fun.

In order for practice to be fun you have to remember something.

The payoff.

My 12 year old brain didn't really comprehend what good those drills were doing for my strength. My performance. How I could play the game better. How it would improve me.

You know, in the long run.

My 12 year old brain thought that it would be EASY to be a star basketball player. That it would be EASY to just shoot the ball and all.

My 12 year old brain had no idea...!

Even now....my 40 year old brain struggles with seeing the payoff of good practice. What difference does this [thing I'm practicing] really make? I'm not seeing the point of the drills!

I mean, sometimes...sometimes I'm just tired...and sweaty...and all I really want to do is hang out at Robert's house...I don't want to go to practice! I don't want to do those drills again! I've been doing them....and really, all I've seen is 40 seconds of court time....doesn't even seem like it's worth it!!!

Have you ever felt that way?

You know what?

There's potential...and then there's practice...and then there's progress....and then perfection.

It will not happen overnight, My Friends...and if you expect perfection overnight...if you think you can be a Star Player without doing some suicide runs...well...you're setting yourself up for humiliation...and hurt...and hate...and hanging out at Robert's house.

And you don't want that. Trust me.

Now go practice. Do a suicide run with me! I'll even give you a head start...