weekend wonderland

I picked up a basketball when I was already in high school, though pictures suggested that I was playing ball since I was still a toddler. My first scrimmages were early morning games that our barkada used to play at a backyard court. I never had any formal training in basketball but I could tell I can play. Maybe it was in my blood, basketball was our family's sport in the first place. Me and my brother often joked that had we grown taller, we would have made it into some of the more prestigious basketball tournaments and not just the backyard games that we usually get into. When I started playing, I found that shooting was a natural gift (again, it's in the blood). Standing at 5' and 3" or so, the inside game was never really my forte though I never shunned physical contact. Shooting came as natural as breathing and when you get into a groove, every net swish is music to my ears.

During college I discovered the beauty and the pleasure of grabbing rebounds. It was not as glamorous as shooting those medium-range jumpers and not as graceful as slashing your way to the basket, but it leaves a flutter in my heart just to crash the boards. A famous coach once said that letting the ball touch the ground after a shot has been missed is mortal sin. Go for each loose ball, lose yourself in the process.

When I grab a rebound, the only thing i hear is the air up there. Okay, I may be exaggerating but words fail to describe the feeling when you hook yourself into a free ball, springing with all you've got and grabbing what 9 other people were fighting over. Grabbing a rebound is letting the game come to you.

When I grab a rebound, I feel alive... and the game starts all over again.