Head To The Bench

When I was 14, I decided to join my school's basketball team. I had been playing soccer since I could remember, and most people seemed to think I was good at it, but somehow I just wanted more- And I thought basketball would provide that for me.

During preseason training, summer time, we had practice twice a day. The first one from 7am to 9am (more like 11 but I'll stick to the "official" time). And during the afternoon from 5pm to 8pm (also the "official" time). After the first month, however, basketball was taking a toll on me. My knees were not designed for jumping (other than the usual trampoline routine anyway) and soon enough they began to give up on me. I didn't stop there though, I thought I still had it in me, that I could push myself a bit further if I really wanted this thing to work.

But then it came down to the point that my knees would randomly lock up on me every now and then during practice, making it impossible to even perform the simple task of walking. One day while having a lock up episode during practice, I directed myself to the bench- very slowly. I didn't ask permission to leave the court. Partly because I knew at this point I didn't need permission (my coach was well aware of my condition) and also because I just didn't wanna look at my coach and to find a look of disappointment in his face. After a few minutes sitting on the bench, staring at my feet, coach sat to my side, patted me on the back and simply said "Let it go, Ashley."

It's not that he had given up on me, it's just that he knew better. It seemed to me that this was the time to give up.

Summer time is not an easy time to have practice, much less twice a day. It's hot and some coaches get too pushy. Yes, they want the best from their players, but some forget what that actually is.

Two days ago, Madison Park wrote an article for CNN about a recent death of a high school football player caused by the high temperatures. She also reported an alarming number of 39 heat-related deaths to football players since 1995. I know we all want to win but is this the price we're willing to pay?

I know how important football is for some people. It is for me too. Like a religion (don't give me that look, you'd understand after spending two minutes in Alabama). Sometimes it means a shot at college, or a professional career, but what happens when it means the end of your life?

According to the article, the coach denied water to the player. Why is it that sometimes we get to stubborn to stop? That we can't see beyond our own point of view and yield a little? Sports are supposed to keep kids out of the streets, out of trouble. But this wasn't the case. Yes, I know we're human and we all make mistakes, but you gotta admit this was a hell of a mistake. And it goes both ways. The kid just didn't wanna disappoint so he kept on going.

There's a time to push yourself to the limit but there's also a time to head to the bench.