My experience with basketball began at a very young age, I used to avidly watch it and I would practice often I did the same things every other young kid would do I would watch the pros and try to recreate their moves in my back driveway. But basketball wasn’t just something I did for fun. It was also a way for me and my dad to bond with each other I would go up to him and he would always beat me, but some days I would triumph over him and it made me feel like I was getting a bit better every day. Years past and in 5th grade, I finally got to play some real basketball I would look forward to the end of every week knowing I would get a chance to step on the court and give it my all. But I would barely get in, I found myself sitting on the bench for half the game. After another week of practice, I finally got in, I was playing and I was having fun. I realized at all of my favorite aspects of playing the sport was not necessarily on the court. I liked working on new moves in practices and getting creative on game day. I would wake up on Saturdays eager to play and show up ready to play.

I definitely got into a specific routine after a while I would be playing up to four games a weekend and it would be tradition for me and my dad to  wake up and drive from game to game in the car he would give me tips and pointers but mostly tell me every little thing I was doing wrong but in the end I would mostly just look forward to playing my next game. Out of everything, I did in this routine me and my dad had the one thing I loved was how there was always basketball to played and nothing would beat that satisfying sound of hearing that ball swish in the net after every basket I would make. My biggest fan was probably my father although he would get mad at me sometimes he showed a deep interest in the sport of basketball, maybe it was because it was something he missed out on growing up or he just understood the game more than anything else I could never understand his strong passion for the sport.

I started to lose the sense of amusement that I got for basketball because as I got older others around me got bigger while others got profoundly better at the sport. I understood the time and effort that came with being a great basketball player and I just did not have it but mostly it was the fact that everything had to be done consistently and without fail to reach perfection at basketball but I hated that I just wanted to enjoy playing basketball. Practices got more competitive as the season progressed and in some ways that can be a good thing but in the case of basketball I just felt like I couldn’t keep up. When it came time to try out for the team next year I didn’t bother and for the first time in five years, I didn’t play basketball on Saturday. I have to admit I regretted the decision a lot at first it didn’t feel right at all. The worst part about my decision to quit was staying home on Saturdays I knew I could be out playing but instead of staying home. I knew I let my dad down but I didn’t care at the time I just couldn't continue to do something I hated.  I knew I wasn’t good enough to play anymore and no. I haven't played basketball since I quit and I don’t think much of how good I could be if I still play now because it only makes me feel like I made a mistake. Years have passed since I stopped playing and I feel much better about it I enjoy basketball more casually now I still play against my dad and I still follow the games on TV with him. In the end, basketball is a common interest that I share with my dad, it has also helped by teaching me how to overcome the small adversities that happen every day and it ultimately taught me how to move on in life which is a very valuable skill, and I can be glad saying now I know how to let go of things from my experience I had of quitting basketball.