An Open Letter To The Girl In Love With Basketball

Alexa, the second I started to read this, I thought of you.  I love your growing love of the game, but I love you more.  I love seeing the look in your eyes when you finally made that finger roll in the living room on the 5 foot goal.  I love hearing the ball bouncing around the house all day.  I love when I hear you watching the Kyrie Irving top 100 crossovers.  Most of all, I love that I get to share my first love with you and how much you love it and appreciate it.

I hope the game is as good to you as it was/is to me.  The game will give back to you what you are willing to give to the game.  I didn't write this myself, but I could have written it for you.  You can find the original version here.  Daddy loves you.

To The Little Girl in a Jersey,

You are eight years old, and in love. The smell of scuffed hardwood helps you breathe easier, in a way you never knew you could. The sound of squeaking shoes makes your ears perk up and gives you a rush of adrenaline. You're learning to do math behind the snack table, tallying up two dollar Gatorades and five dollar hot dog meals. The teammates that you are on the court with will now become your friends for life, and if you end up in a new place later on down this long, winding road, you can always find a court and a ball to ease your mind.

Cherish it now. You have fallen in love with a sport which will teach you dedication, tenacity, and pure discipline. Your parents will support you and send you to countless tournaments, give up their birthdays and mothers/fathers day to watch you play. They may even drive two hours to watch you sit on the bench. Don't get discouraged when you don't make varsity, or when you stop growing at 5' 3". Don't get discouraged when you have that one coach who doesn't believe in you, because it will happen at least once, and it will not be easy. Don't get discouraged because all of this will make you stronger. That coach who tells you that you can't do it will become the single reason why you should. You will have to learn to pick yourself up at a young age, because that's what sports teach you, to keep going.

In five years, when what you love becomes political and every game becomes the most important game you'll ever play, remember why you love it. Remember that feeling of water finally meeting your lips after five sets of lines. Or the excitement of your first three-pointer in a game. Remember the look on your face in that photo where you got your first medal. Remember looking up at the obscenely high hoop, wondering how the high school girls shot the ball effortlessly, with the type of arc to give anyone goosebumps.

In 10 years, when it's all wrapping up, stand in the middle of the court and breathe it all in. Breathe in that same smell of scuffed hardwood that now is covered with your blood, sweat and tears. Remember the memories of your scuffing shoes, the same shoes that have been on your feet as you play through breakups, tragedies, pain, and hardship. Remember your teammates, the ones who told you that the missed free-throw was OK, and the ones that helped you navigate through defense, and through life itself. Remember what it feels like to be eight years old and in love with the game

Remember to never lose yourself in the process of fighting for the game you love.