“Bang, bang, bang,” the pounding of the basketball echoed throughout the neighborhood on a cold December night. It was way past Mark’s curfew, but he could not resist the temptation to continue working on his craft. Basketball was the pride and joy of Mark’s life, he loved it, and believed that the game loved him back. Mark treated the game of basketball like an artform, and worked hours on end to perfect his craft. Whenever he had a ball in his hands he felt like nothing could harm him. Mark continued to practice as the darkness began to consume his lit up court little by little. “Click.” “Oh no,” Mark thought to himself as he heard that dreaded noise. He routinely looked up towards the window of his next door neighbor, Mr. Carter. Mark knew this was not a good sign, his mother had always warned him that if a neighbor complained, his late night basketball session would have to come to an end. Mr. Carter was enraged as he waved his wrinkly hand out the window yelling, “Dammit Mark, what did I tell you about shooting your ball past sunset?!” Mark rolled his eyes and grumpily said, “sorry Mr. Carter, it won’t happen again,” Mark’s apology was answered by a swift bang as Mr. Carter angrily shut the window. “Grumpy old man” Marked muttered to himself as he walked back inside his house.
Mark’s mother was still awake sitting by the window, with a little smirk on her face. “Mr. Carter again?” She said, “yep” Mark replied as he kissed his mother. Mark’s mother only responded by giving him a big hug and a kiss on the forehead as she ran his fingers through his hair. “Get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow.” Mark jumped into his bed, exhausted. Despite feeling drained of all energy, he could not sleep, he was too anxious for tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow was a very special day for Mark, it was the day he would be trying out for his high school basketball team.
As Mark entered the gym he heard balls bouncing off the hardwood floor, sneakers squeaking, and kids laughing. Mark loved every bit of it, especially the soothing sound of a ball perfectly sliding through the rim barely grazing the net, making a smooth swoosh sound. He carefully laced up his sneakers and stretched out. As Mark was doing his routine stretch, he felt a hard object hit him in the back, knocking him over. Mark got up dazed, and was greeted by an eruption of laughter from all the players in the gym. He felt his face get bright red as he looked in the direction of who threw the basketball, it was none other than Jacob Wright, the star senior on the team. Jacob was a tall, athletic, good looking kid who seemed to have it all, the girls liked him, the coach adored him, and despite his low IQ, the teachers handed him A’s. “What’s the matter freshie embarrassed?” said Jacob as his friends gathered behind him. Mark could only respond by looking away and finishing his stretches. A loud whistle echoed throughout the gym and all the players ran to half court to greet the coach. Coach Burwell was an enormous man, with a strong presence and a loud, raspy voice. “All right gentlemen,” he said, “are we ready to play some ball?” There was a roar of cheers from each of the players. Coach Burwell explained how the tryouts were going to work and separated the players by grade. The tryouts began with a drill called 17s, which was where the players had to run up and down the court seventeen times in a certain time frame. Mark gave everything he had, but felt as if his lungs were closing with each step he took. Mark ended up missing the time frame and finishing last, which put him in the “number two” group, A.K.A the kids who were already on coach Burwell’s badside. Mark knew that he was in store for a rough couple of days.
Mark’s chest felt tight and he was struggling to breathe, but he continued to push himself. The next part of tryouts was a ball handling drill, which Mark was able to excel at, displaying his long hours of hard work. It looked as if Mark had the ball attached to his palm as he performed a variety of dribbling sequences in a graceful motion. “Keep it up little guy and you might just make this team,” coach Burwell said. Mark was encouraged by the compliment, but also angered that he was called, “little guy” this was a phrase that he knew all too well. Mark had been diagnosed with hypothyroidism at a young age. This was a growth disorder where the thyroid gland is not producing enough hormones that are essential for bone growth. Mark was currently 5 foot nothing and showed no signs of getting any taller. Mark had always used his speed to his advantage, but these high school kids looked like giants compared to him. Nevertheless, Mark was determined to showcase his talent. However, things did not go according to plan.
The tryouts ended with a scrimmage where all grade levels played together. Mark was the point guard on his team, and of course Jacob decided to guard him. Mark hated Jacob, but could not deny that he was a gifted athlete. He had such a long stride and a natural shooting stroke, he made the game look easy. Jacob played his hardest defense on Mark, stealing the ball over and over again, finishing with a dunk on the other side of the court. “Take care of the ball!” coach Burwell yelled at Mark, and with each steal, he found himself losing more and more confidence in himself. The tryouts concluded with one more set of 17s, and Mark earned last place again. This was not the ideal first tryout he had envisioned.
Mark walked home feeling upset and defeated. He had been embarrassed by Jacob and not played to his full potential. His whole body was aching with pain, and he felt a wheezing in his chest. When Mark walked in the house his mother quickly greeted him saying, “how did tryouts go honey?” Mark replied glumly, “pretty terrible.” Mark’s mother asked if he wanted to talk about it, but he just laid on the couch trying to hold back his tears. His mother broke the silence by asking, “how are you breathing?” “I’m breathing well” Mark said, trying to disguise his pain. It was a good attempt, but Mark’s mother was able to see right through it. She brought over his nebulizer and sat down next to him. “Oh God,” Mark thought to himself, he despised that machine, it made him feel so different from everyone else. For those of you who have not used a nebulizer before, it is basically a large machine, that pumps medicine into the lungs in order to open them up. Mark had severe asthma and the dusty, hot gym definitely played a role in triggering it. His mother sighed and rubbed her son’s forehead gently, “Mark you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you could play recreational sports if…” but Mark did not give her a chance to finish her sentence, he cut her off saying, “I can do this mom, I’m not going to quit.” Mark’s mother smiled and said, “that’s my boy, I love you.”
This was the final day of tryouts and Mark came in ready to give every last ounce of effort. Jacob and his possy taunted Mark, but he was not phased by it, today something felt different. Mark played angry, not an out of control type of angry, but the type of angry that pushes an athlete to reach their maximum potential. Mark was hustling for loose balls, diving on the ground, making shots, playing solid defense, and breaking down the opposing team's defensive structure with beautiful passes. It was as if Mark had bottled up all of his rage throughout his life and unleashed it in this one tryout. As the session was coming to an end coach Burwell asked if anyone wanted to challenge Jacob to a game of one on one to ten. Everyone was quiet, no one had ever beaten Jacob before, and Mark had never even thought of trying to challenge him, but today, something definitely was different. Mark broke the silence and said, “I’ll take him!” Everyone’s eyes popped out of their sockets in shock, and even coach Burwell dropped his whistle that had been clenched between his teeth. “Alright Mark, I respect the courage.” said coach Burwell. As Mark walked to the top of the key, players taunted him saying, “R.I.P Mark” “this is gonna be a quick loss.” Mark was now face to face with Jacob, or should I say face to waist. “You’re gonna regret this freshie, your ball first” said Jacob as he roughly shoved the ball into Mark’s chest. Mark took a deep breath and got in his offensive stance, protecting the ball carefully from Jacob’s long reach. Mark made a quick cut and drove towards the basket, he tried to do a high arcing layup, but it was not high enough, Jacob swatted it against the backboard as the audience responded by yelling, “ohhhh!” Jacob took three hard dribbles towards the basket and knocked Mark over with force as he smoothly made a layup. Everyone clapped for Jacob as he extended his hand to help Mark up, but then pulled it away saying, “get up yourself.” Mark quickly rose up and checked the ball with Jacob. Mark took another fast dribble to the side and used a pump fake, Jacob flew by and Mark rose for his shot, but Jacob’s long arms allowed him to rapidly twist around and swat the ball away again. Jacob proceeded by performing a variety of complex dribbling sequences and shooting right over Mark’s head, “swoosh,” nothing but net. Jacob shoved Mark as he walked by saying, “that’s how you shoot a jumpshot.” The score was now four to zero and things were not looking good for Mark, but he did not quit, that was not who he was. Mark closed his eyes for a second, blocked everything out, and pretended as if he were playing in his backyard, “bang, bang, bang.” Mark unleashed his dribbling skills and blew by Jacob, creating enough space to not get his shot blocked. The crowd was in awe, did this little freshman really score on Jacob Wright, the all state super star? Jacob angrily checked the ball with Mark and got in his stance. Mark was feeling more confident than ever and took a hard dribble to the hoop, but pulled back. The step back was done to perfection and Jacob slid back as Mark shot a three pointer over him, “swoosh” a perfect shot. The score was now five to four, and Mark began to win the crowd over with his courageous performance. Jacob was enraged, he could not believe this little freshman was beating him right now. He pounded the ball on the court and backed Mark down until he was right under the rim and he made an easy layup. Jacob did the same maneuver again and the score was now eight to five in favor of Jacob. The players began to taunt Jacob because he was going for “cheap baskets” with such a great height advantage on Mark. Nevertheless, Jacob was not willing to ruin his reputation, so he began to do the same move again, until Mark reached his hand in and knocked the ball loose. Mark scrambled after the ball and was able to gather himself. He drove towards the hoop, did a hard jump stop and did a pump fake. As Mark did the fake, he could see Jacob leaving the ground to try and block the shot. Mark was able to twist and turn until he was directly under the basket and used the rim as a shield from Jacob as he put as much spin on the ball as possible. The ball hit the backboard and the rotation allowed it to bank into the basket. The score was eight to seven, and Mark could see the nervous expression beginning to form on Jacob’s face. Jacob again tried to go for the easy basket by backing Mark down, but he rushed his shot and it clanked off the rim. Mark gathered the ball and was ready to make his move, he was face to face with the best player in their school and had a chance to win. Mark took a deep breath and again envisioned himself playing in his backyard. He dribbled once with his left hand, and extended the ball out as if he was going to go to the basket, but then he crossed over quickly creating a little space between him and his opponent. Mark was able to get behind the three point line and rise for his shot as Jacob extended his arm out as far as possible to try and tip the ball. The ball barely skimmed Jacob’s index finger as it floated towards the basket. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, as all eyes were on the spinning ball approaching the hoop. The ball lightly hit the rim, and rolled around it for what seemed like hours, but then, the ball fell into the basket. The game was over, the little freshman had conquered the giant.
All the players gathered around Mark and picked him up chanting, “freshie for the win!” Mark could have sworn he even saw coach Burwell smirking, but then he silenced the group saying, “all right boys the results for the team roster will be posted outside the gym.” After the decisions were made Mark and the other players rushed outside the gym to try and find out the results. A large group of bodies covered the paper that was taped to the bulletin board and it was impossible for Mark to see over them. He anxiously waited until every last person had filed out of the school, it was now just Mark and the list of names. He scanned down the list, and with each name he passed, his heart sank a little more. Mark was near the bottom of the list and was about to give up, but then he saw the name, “Mark Davidson” appear on the very last line of the list. Mark just stood there for a moment, as a variety emotions came crashing in all at once. He thought of the countless nights where he struggled to breath, the big players pushing him around, the exhausting hours of practice, and all of the people that told him he wasn’t good enough. Mark reflected on all the pain and suffering he had to endure, and began to cry. However, these were not tears of sadness, they were tears of pure joy. Mark had to work for everything he had in his life and he had struggled so much, but all of the pain and suffering was finally worth it. He had earned a spot on the varsity team.
Mark sprinted home today, eager to deliver some good news to his mother. He burst into the house and yelled, “mom I’m home!” Mark walked around the house calling his mother’s name, but she was nowhere to be found. “Mom?” Mark said in a very bewildered tone, but again there was no response. This was very strange, Mark’s mother worked at a health insurance company and left early in the morning before he woke up, but was always there by the time he got home. Mark was beginning to get nervous and dialed his mom’s phone number, but no answer. He then tried her work number, but no answer. Mark called over and over until someone finally picked up on his mom’s work line. They told Mark his mother had left around 2:00 p.m, but it was now 5:00 p.m and still no sign of her. Mark’s heart began to beat at a mile a minute and his stomach felt as if it had a million knots in it. He anxiously paced back and forth next to the phone, waiting for his mother to call him. It was not until an hour later that the phone finally rang.
Mark nervously picked up the phone, almost dropping it because of his sweaty palms and he said, “hello?” There was a brief pause, but then the person on the other line began to speak. “Hello, this is officer Taylor from the police department.” Mark felt his heart begin to beat quicker and quicker, but was able to say, “is everything okay?” The officer responded, “Mark, I am extremely sorry. Your mother has been in a car crash, and she did not make it.” The officer continued to speak, but it all just sounded like a foreign language. Mark had completely blocked out what the officer was saying. He dropped the phone and began to break down in tears. Mark sobbed for what seemed like hours, and began to punch the wall in his kitchen over and over again. “What did I do to deserve this?!” he screamed, “Why God, why?!” The phone rang several more times and Mark decided he had to answer, despite his traumatized state. The officer expressed his condolences and asked Mark if he had any family that could look after him. “Mark, was your mother married?” “Divorced,” Mark replied, “would you be able to live with your father?” “I don’t know where he is,” Mark said, as he struggled to hold back the tears. The officer seemed startled, but tried to console Mark by saying, “don’t worry buddy we'll find someone who can take you in. We’re sending an officer to come pick you up.” Mark thanked the officer and hung up the phone. Despite the policeman’s kindness, Mark knew that no one would be taking him in. Mark’s mother was the only family he had. His father had left them at a young age, and the rest of his relatives were either dead or in jail. Mark had been on top of the world a few hours ago, but everything appeared to be crashing down around him. He did not know what to do. All he could think about was the last words his mother said to him, “that’s my boy, I love you.” Six simple words, that was all Mark had left of his mother now, and he felt completely helpless and lost. Mark reflected on his asthma attacks and remembered how much fear and pain these episodes would instill in him. The pain and fear he felt back then, was nothing compared to what he was faced with now. Mark had run out of tears, and his knuckles were covered in bruises. He was angry at himself, God, and the person who had crashed into his mother that day. “Are you even real?” Mark said quietly at first. “Are you even real?!” Mark had now shifted his tone to an aggressive yell, “I pray to you every night, every night!” “People tell me to have faith, but what have you given me?!” “I can’t grow, I can’t breathe, and you took away the only person who has ever loved me” “If people give you so much praise, why have you let my life fall apart?!” “Answer me!” Mark pounded his wall one more time and collapsed on the ground, panting heavily. He closed his eyes and just laid there, somewhat hoping that God would somehow answer him this time. However, God did not float into the room and inspire Mark to persevere, instead Mark was only answered by silence. Mark laid on his hardwood floor for a little longer, until he felt something touching his feet. Mark took a glance at what was touching him, and saw his basketball. A few moments later the neighborhood was filled with a familiar sound, “bang, bang, bang." Mark was pounding the ball on his court, and aggressively driving to the basket. He was performing his dribbling sequences and rising up for shots. The only thing that Mark was focused on was the ball and the hoop. He continued to play as hard as possible, feeling the sweat begin to drip down his face. As Mark rose up for another shot he heard the sound again, “click.” Mark looked up to the window, and Mr. Carter was there as usual. “Mark what did I tell…” but Mark cut him off yelling, “you have no idea what I’ve been through!” “I need this game, I need to practice right now, I need it” “You’re just a grumpy old man!” Mr. Carter looked stunned, his eyebrows scrunched up and he yelled back. “Don’t pity yourself kid, everyone you see has been through alot in their lives.” “Shut up!” Mark screamed back, “You don’t know anything!” “All you do is sit in your house with nothing to live for!” Mr. Carter’s face turned bright red and he slammed the window shut. For a moment Mark thought the conflict was over, but a few minutes later, Mr. Carter stormed out of his house and confronted Mark yelling, “who do you think you are?!” He was about to go on a rant until Mark said, “My mother is dead!” Mark expected a sympathetic look, but Mr. Carter’s angry expression did not shift, “you think you’re the only one who’s experienced loss?” “You think you’re the only person who has faced tragedy?” “My wife was shot and bleeding out in the street.” “Five times she tried to call me, five times!” “And I was too drunk to pickup the phone.” “I’m sorry for your loss kid, but you’re not the only one.” There was a very long silence after that and the only thing that could be heard was the crickets and birds chirping every so often. Mark was clenching his fist tightly and had a tough expression on his face, but then all of his rage went away and he began to cry. Mr. Carter did something Mark thought he would never do in a million years, and embraced him. For a very long time, Mark and Mr. Carter hugged each other, not saying a word. Mark barely knew this man, but it was oddly comforting because he could tell that Mr. Carter could understand how he was feeling. After the long embrace Mr. Carter said, “you know, I used to shoot a few hoops myself,” Mark was stunned, “really?” “Yes, I played for UCONN back in 1963, and we were a damn good team.” A smile began to form on Mark’s face and Mr. Carter smiled right back. “Here” Mr. Carter said as he took the ball from Mark, “let me show you how to really shoot a jumpshot.” The pounding of the basketball resumed, but it was accompanied by another sound this time, laughter.
“Go Mark go!” Mr. Carter screamed as he watched the 5’ 10” point guard glide down the court. The crowd was roaring and Mark’s team was down by two. “Hey Carter, how many points does Davidson have, 26?” “Too many to keep track of” Mr. Carter replied with a big grin on his face. The two teams were battling at Mohegan Sun Arena in the state championship game. The arena was filled to the rim, with thousands of people awaiting the outcome with only eight seconds left in the match. Mark had the ball in his hands as he slowly dribbled up the court. He skillfully maneuvered past defenders making his way towards the basket. In the background Mark could hear the crowd chanting as the clock ticked down, “five, four, three, two!” Mark put the ball in his left hand, extended the ball out, and crossed over, just like he had done to Jacob Wright his freshman year. As the crowd screamed one, Mark released the ball from the top of the key, just behind the three point line. His defenders fingertips just grazed the ball, but it was still in flight going towards the rim. Ten thousand eyes were on the ball, anxiously awaiting for it to reach it’s destination. Mr. Carter held his breath along with everyone else in the arena. As the ball was in the air, Mark thought about the night he and Mr. Carter embraced. Mr. Carter had let Mark come live with him and taught him how to be a great basketball player, but more importantly, an even better man. Without Mr. Carter, Mark was not sure, where he would be right now. The ball barely touched the rim, as it smoothly fell through the hoop as the buzzer sounded. “Beep!” Game over, 53-52. Mark’s team was victorious. The packed stadium erupted in a roar of cheers as Mark’s teammates held him up in triumph. Mark pounded the air with his fist and tried to enjoy the moment as much as possible. He grabbed his sneaker, and kissed the side that was labeled, “K.D” in honor of his mother, Karen Davidson. There was complete pandemonium in the arena, and Mark pushed past the fans trying to find Mr. Carter. Eventually they locked eyes from across the court and ran towards each other as Mark jumped into his arms. “We did it!” Mark yelled “We did it!” Mr. Carter and Mark were laughing and crying as they held each other tight. “Thank you for taking me in four years ago,” Mark said. “You saved my life and turned me into a great man.” All Mr. Carter could do is smile and say, “whenever I saw you pounding that ball outside, you reminded me of myself when I was younger.” “After my wife died, I was very upset at the world for a while, but you gave me a reason to live again, I love you Mark, your mother would be proud.” Mark smiled and said, “I love you too Mr. Carter.” Confetti went off and there were no signs of the cheering coming to an end anytime soon. Mark felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see a man in a black suit with a clip board. “Very impressive performance Mark,” said the mysterious man. “Hello, I’m Mr. Williams, but you can call me John. I’m the basketball scout for UCONN and we are very interested in you.” John shook hands with Mark and Mr. Carter as they took a walk towards the exit. “I believe Mark will be a very good asset to the team. What do you guys think of that?” Mark was thrilled, since the age of five he had dreamt of playing basketball at UCONN. “I would love that” said Mark with a huge smile, as he looked at Mr. Carter who was also grinning from ear to ear. “That’s wonderful Mark, follow me gentlemen and we can discuss the details.” Mark, Mr. Carter, and John walked out of the gym together, but just before Mark completely walked out he took a look at the whole stadium. This was one of the happiest moments of his life, and even though his mother was not with him, he felt as if she was watching from heaven. “I love you mom, this was for you,” Mark said, as he left the gym and began to plan his new future. The world can feel like a dark place sometimes, but always remember to keep digging and persevering, and you will eventually find the light.