Courage and Love in the City of Angels (Or a Christmas in July)

Photo Credit: Aaron Phillips

Everyone experiences recurring dreams. A bizarre aspect of our reality, I believe dreams to be almost as impactful on our lives as our waking moments. Unfathomable creativity, complexity, and lucidity lead us to contemplate existence and consciousness from a position of complete vulnerability and openness.

One of my most common recurring dreams puts me somewhere back in high school, playing basketball for my varsity coach Eric Swain. Now let me explain Coach Swain to all of you who never attended Buchanan High School:

Standing about 6'4" with a gut to match, his most renowned trait was his tendency to scream directly in your face to the point where you'd have to wipe his spit off your cheeks. A fiery titan of fury, he would prowl the sidelines whenever he was looking for a sub, somehow looking angrier at the eventual replacement than the player coming off the floor. Once he found a victim, he would seize you by the front of your jersey and basically fling you in the direction of the scorer's table. On more than one occasion some of my teammates were caught unawares and suffered mild whiplash when coach threw them into the fray while they were looking in the other direction.

Charming individual, that Swain.

Well anyone who has played organized sports at the high school, college, or professional level can attest to the fact that all coaches have their own, intricate style. Some are more analytical, some are methodical, some are screamers, and some are lunatics. Whatever the means, coaches are always trying to get the best out of their players -- as athletes AND as people.

To this day I know that the reason I have this recurring dream of being at practice is primarily to do with the fact that I still feel like I never got a fair shake with Swain. For my senior year, our squad had about 19 guys on it -- far larger than the average basketball team. The starting lineup was set, and minutes were hard to come by. And despite not truly emerging as a talented basketball player until well after my high school years came to an end, I am still bitter that Swain never gave me a shot.

But the lingering sense of pride I retain from that experience, from those four years of enduring Swain's diatribes and verbal baptisms, is because I never gave in and quit. I never gave him that satisfaction.

And so I have to reflect on these dreams and those years in his tutelage positively, and I can still take away a nugget of wisdom and understanding that helps in my mid-20's: Coach Swain's intention was to "break us down...so he could build us back up."

It all derived from a place of love and trust. Mentors, leaders, and coaches will all tell you that it takes adversity to grow as an individual. That's how I know that my time with Coach Swain made me stronger, more durable, and determined. Though it may be to a fault at times, I do not give up on anything or anyone. This is perhaps my greatest strength.

I can see this ideal of rebuilding oneself manifested too in life events and non-sports related adversity. I fucked up royally back in May, but it gave me a greater perspective and understanding. I had grown accustomed to taking many things for granted, and I have had to deal with the losses of privileges and pride subsequently.

But I am not to be pitied or mourned. I recovered, dealt with the adversity, and somehow grew up enough to plan trips and follow through with my plans, sometimes relying on public transportation and city infrastructure that makes me want to vomit, but I persevered. And in my perseverance I found wonderful times with my best friends yet again, and I found my way to a basketball court next to the Santa Monica Beach.

Oh boy, did I prove myself worthy.

Having not played 5-on-5 full court since about 2013, I was tepid about jumping into the fray, but I played to my strengths and asserted myself on a brand new court that I'd never graced before, and I proved that I belonged in a group of grown men with an average of 5 years my senior. Over the course of four games I neither dominated the ball nor wowed anyone with fancy plays; rather I played basketball the only way I know how: hard.

And I had some moments, a curling three on the right wing that would not have been likely 7 years ago in high school; a driving floater/hook over a 6'7" defender; periodic steals and some nice set-up assists; many strong defensive possessions in the post where I played that 6'7" stiff to a standstill.

My favorite part of those four games, though, has to be...that I won every single one.

And so regardless of the tough times that I experienced in high school and the obstacles I've faced as an adult, I know not only that I will come through unscathed, but also that I will succeed. It's been awhile since I mentioned a song in one of these, so go listen to "Heart of a Champion" by Nelly and "Till I Collapse" by Eminem.

With that being said...I'm gonna go pump some iron. Get some.

Big Bear Lake, California