Pressure...

So I'm standing at the foul line and looking down to be sure my Reebok Pumps aren't crossing the line. With them laced and just beyond it, I look up to the referee as he bounces me the ball. He then lifts up two fingers indicating "two shots." A quick look up at the scoreboard tells the story. My team is down one point with six seconds left. My concentration changes to the orange goal. The same goal that I'd taken thousands of shots before. It was as familiar to me as the glass backboard. I knew its bounce, its feel, its challenge. Another quick glance around the gym revealed members of my family and friends. Further inspection also revealed my new "girlfriend" wide eyed with excitement. I'd just asked her if I could "Have a chance" right before starting the pre-game lay-up line. My focus returned to the rim as the gym became engulfed in silence. I proceeded to bounce the ball in line with my foul shot ritual and my elbows bent along with my knees. The shot goes up and a few onlookers stand...

Today, what I realize is that the pressure felt in those very moments would become to me as familiar as the goal to which I was to shoot. Long after that shot would fall short and barely scrape the rim, I recognized this as life's "Pressure 101" course. At that time the pressure was so great that it turned my stomach bringing about a strong desire to run to the bathroom for about 20 to 25 minutes! With that experience though, I was unknowingly being groomed to become as clutch as Tiger over a putt or MJ in the fourth!

Receiving the ball for my second shot proved a hundred times more pressure than the first. I learned at that moment to control the pressure and not let it control me. To get myself together or promptly change my undies! I really had no choice! I felt my heart rate decrease and my confidence grow. My pre-shot ritual of pumping my shoes six times and wiping my hands on my biker shorts went without a hitch. The ball arched through the air with perfect rotation...

You see, at that very moment I had defeated pressure. I was able to grasp it and use it as strength. Whether that shot went in and the team had won or lost, I would have passed my first course and been on my way to obtaining total "clutchness," and actually being mentioned with the aforementioned Hall of Fame members inducted before me. But that day it would not be so. The outcome of that day rendered no high fives or overtime even. No chants of my name or accolades, only a hard clanging sound off the back part of the rim while both the ball and I fell to the hardwood! Then, as the team picked me up off the floor, I received a pat on the back and heard in a raspy voice a random question by some old dude! "You know the difference between a shooter and a scorer son? Huh?" I contemplated this in the bathroom following the game for about 20 to 25 minutes!

All in all, that experience is as much apart of me as the many times I've succeeded. Today I breath pressure! I know its bounce, its feel, its challenge, and when to take Pepto-Bismol! And although I could never make it up to my teammates, or get another "chance" with my now old "girlfriend" because she dumped me as I made my way to the can, I can however, make it up to myself. This because in this game of life for me, the outcome is yet to be determined but verily I say unto you, I will NOT make the same mistakes! I've learned my lessons but am still unsure of how to answer the old dudes question! I will, however, never rock Reebok Pumps again and will always, always carry with me proudly...my "Masters degree in Clutchnessity" along with an extra set of undies...just in case! Trust me! This whole parenting thing requires it - I really have no choice!
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