by Rahim, Period 6
Arrogance can make the man or it can kill him. For me, it broke my right arm. After trying to split a double team, and not passing the ball to my wide-open teammate, I tripped on one my friend’s legs and completely dislocated and fractured my right wrist. Because of this, the doctor said I would be in cast up to my shoulder for about 6 months.
I was a little nervous because it was the first time I had gotten a caste, but once I settled in, I did what any kid any normal teenage boy with a cast would do, get the all of girls to sign it, use it to skip the lunch line, and get more sympathy from my mother. But there was some major downfalls to this such as it ruined my handwriting and most likely prevented me from participating in my community’s regional sports tournament, which was in four months. I wasn’t the star on the team, but a starter and the most experienced player on the roster. I had always been known for coming back early from most injuries, but this is was total different case.
Even then, my coach who really didn’t want me to sit out, had already decided to take my name off the roster. Not even my own brothers said that I could play in this sports tournament because,“I wasn’t strong enough.” For most people, when your own people say things like this, you would give up. For me, it only motivated to actually try and comeback.
From then on forward every single day , when I got home from school, I developed my left hand. You see basketball is a very one hand dominant game. NBA players mainly shoot, rebound, and dunk with one hand. They lift heavier weights with their dominant hand. My job now was to make my left hand my dominant one. For hours, I would write with it, throw tennis balls, catch footballs, dribble basketballs, lifted up to fotyu pounds with the left arm. Until came the day where I returned to practice, still with the anchor on my arm. It had only been 2 months. I could feel the gym’s luminous lights hitting my face as the girl on the counter looked like me as if I was soldier returning home. I actually did feel like one.
“Are you here to find someone sweetie? “ she asked.
“No just here to play.” I replied.
“With that?” she said as she pointed at my cast
“Yes.” I replied with smile.
My team mates were all stretching together in the middle of the court and my coach sitting on the bench with the assistant. I slowly opened the door to avoid the loud creaking sound it made since the birth of the gym. It still made the loud noise but not as big as a noise my teammates made when they saw me. All of them ran as though if I was a some sort of prize, it felt good though.
“Back to stretches, quicky,” Coach yelled.
I sat on the cold bench, adjacent to the one coach was on. He looked at me as if though I had done something wrong. Practice officially started but I was still waiting on bench. I respected my coach enough to wait and not start practicing without his permission. After our starters lost to some random 5 people, the coach decided to me pull me in as a last resort. When coach gave me his famous nod to go, my left palm started left palm started to flood and my chest felt as though if had been hit by a rock. But once I got on the court, it just felt right. I took one quick lay up and it actually went in. It was like the universe was telling me that I was going to be good and that I can do this.