There I am, starting my first varsity basketball game while only being fourteen and a freshman at Ballard High School in the suburbs of Louisville, Kentucky. The loud and rambunctious crowd driven by the rowdy student section yelling chants and jumping up resembled the same atmosphere as a Chiefs game at Arrowhead Stadium. As the other team comes up the court, I run up to to the ball handler to try and defend him. However, about three steps before I get to him, I heard a pop in my knee and fell to the ground in immense pain. As I grabbed my leg while squirming around, I was scared because I had no idea what had happened to me or what was going to happen. Fast forward a few months, I am laying on a table in a doctors office while facing the bright ceiling lights, I couldn’t keep still and desperately trying to ignore the dreary situation. I was trying to focus on staying warm in the oddly cold room, but the events from that one night kept running through my head— The pain, my overwhelming fear, and my mothers frantic face when i was being rushed to the hospital. The doctors told me I had torn my ACL and part of my meniscus. I can remember the innocence of my response to the news: “So …show more content…
I had waited three months to find out if I will ever be able to play basketball again at the same level, but the thought of waiting another minute just seemed impossible. Then Dr. Nelson and his nurse walked through the door. He was hospitable, but seemed uncomfortable, almost sad. The question still remained unasked and unanswered as we went through the procedures for a standard physical and I could tell that I had passed all of the tests. The time had come for him to tell me whether or not I could play. He focused on his tablet for a moment, then he looked at me with a unconvincing look. He spoke slowly and softly as he told me that he highly recommended that I do not play again due to the risk of permanently damaging my
Earlier in the spring I was playing a soccer game against the South Anchorage varsity soccer team. I was playing left midfield, taking the ball up the left side of the field when the other team’s right fullback stepped up to get the ball. I cut to the right and heard a loud snap that rung in my ears. I could not stand up. Every time I tried to move my leg, waves of pain pounded from my knee. I had to be carried off the pitch. I learned a few days later
“You need surgery.” Just a few weeks before a national basketball tournament, these words would change my life forever. Basketball is my true passion that is a part of who I am. Unfortunately, I experienced failure at meeting my athletic aspirations, due to an injury. Although my particular injury was out of my control, I constantly felt ashamed that I could not completely fulfill my athletic goals as I had hoped. I felt I had let everyone down who had been there for me and supported me. This injury has also shaped me and changed my perspective on how I see and appreciate certain things.
Later we had our first football game and I was excited for my last first game in high school, I never would have known that it potentially could have been my last game played. Within the first quarter I had broken my foot completely and because of my adrenaline I shrugged it off as a minor injury and played the rest of the game. After to what seemed like I was fine I stood up and collapsed as soon as I did so. This was the first injury that I had ever sustained and I was still in denial thinking I had just sprained a muscle. After being told that I wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season I was heartbroken, along with this the college that I had hoped to attend the most being West GA dropped me as a recruit. Two games passed and I was feeling helpless for myself, I couldn’t drive, I couldn’t do anything without the help of others, I had crutches but being a 320 lb. man it was very difficult getting around. As Nancy Mairs said: “I’ve been limping along for ten years now” I was off of my feet for 2 weeks and to me it felt like an eternity. This was when I decided to let college aside and all I wanted to do was finish my senior season strong, my mother allowed me to get my cast taken off and have me put into a boot. For the remaining games I roughed it out and played with a broken foot. Even with
As soon as I started high school, my goal was to play college baseball. I played baseball for a very competitive select club that traveled out of town every week from Thursday through Sun as well as practicing every Tuesday and Wednesday. All through high school, I sacrificed my free time in the summer to prepare myself for college baseball. After receiving offers from four year universities as well as junior colleges, I decided that a junior college would provide me the best opportunity to continue to develop as a player. Even though I decided I wanted to play at a junior college, I wanted the experience of going away to college and living in a dorm so I decided to attend a junior college in Iowa where they had dorms for student athletes. Being ecstatic to be able to go off to college and play baseball was short lived. During the first month of baseball practice, I injured my arm, spent two months in physical therapy with no improvement, and then finally receiving the bad news that I would need surgery to improve. Surgery was performed over Thanksgiving break, but I was now faced with months of physical therapy, which meant
With the rest of the basketball girls from the surrounding area, I began summer basketball camp. There was a basketball tournament where we played 4 games in one day. During the game an opponent stole the ball, so I chased her down the court. Once I reached her under their basket, I tripped over her foot, fell, and heard something snap. I was absolutely freaking out. The referees ran down to me. All I could say was “Something popped! Something popped!” I couldn’t bend my leg at the knee, it was scary. I was brought to the main lobby to walk it off. I couldn’t bend my leg for two weeks.
I didn’t care I still tried out. The cheers they had us do were easy the jumps were jumps I was doing in first grade. I made the team. I was happy even though deep down I was upset that I could be on the worst team in history. So as I started on the team, I soon realized that my idiot brother had no idea what he was talking about and it was a good team. I wanted to go back to my old coach so that I could learn how to do a back hand spring because everywhere I went I just couldn’t get myself to do it. Some coaches told me that it might be because I don’t trust them enough to do it. So I had a private class with her before her normal cheer practices. We were working on my round offs and cart wheels when she walked away to go answer her phone I went for my round off and didn’t land right and fell because it felt like my knee gave out. I got up and kept trying. When it was time for her teams to practice I was sitting on the floor in pain doing stretches with the girls thinking maybe if I just stretch it out itll feel better it didn’t I ignored it for a while till I went home and took my shoes off my foot swelled up like a balloon. I could barely walk
When I was young, I experienced frequent, unexplainable falls; whether I was playing a sport or just standing in place, I would end up on the ground. Eventually, my parents took me to a medical specialist, and I was diagnosed with low muscle tone. I was told that I would need to work hard every day just to become able to stand upright and that I should no longer compete in contact sports. As I just began playing football, this was devastating to me. After hearing the doctor’s diagnosis, I could have just accepted that I would never be the athlete I aspired to be or just given up on athletics all together. However, hearing him tell me that I could
This injury lasted the duration of my junior year, and I was unable to play. I remained a part of the team, going to every practice and going to every game, but it was during this time that I truly began to shift my focus toward being a student. My senior year, I was faced with a decision that resulted in me walking down to the athletic center that brisk fall morning. I decided that my days of playing baseball were finished. It was one of the most difficult decisions of my life, yet motivated me and empowered me in ways I never thought possible. Giving up baseball has given me the strength to stand on my own, and has cemented my self-confidence. Giving up baseball, my first love, has allowed me to pursue my more recent passion and love for
Which middle school year was your favorite at Minnetonka Middle School? It’s hard choice between 8th and 6th, but this 8th grade year was better. The first year of middle school was effortless but enjoyable. On the other hand, my last year here was proposed to display your accomplishments and become ready for high school. The entire 8th grade has improved every month. The first few months of school were tedious, because they were long-lasting months filled with exams, essays and projects. As the year progressed, I made new connections with other people and I had become used to the tests and projects that had seemed difficult at first. The song Getting Better, written by Paul Mccartney and John Lennon, was a very optimistic song that could illustrate my year chronologically.
“Look at the terrorist”. Muslims kids growing up always have it difficult in America than, say Christians. All throughout middle school, people called me a terrorist. From Kindergarten, I wanted to fit in with all the seemingly “perfect kids” in school. Before, perfection for me meant being popular along with doing whatever you wanted without worrying about the consequences. Eating gelatin at school, letting my hair fall freely, and listening to music. It’s like my first ever school memory described myself feeling left out. No matter what I did, I felt ostracized by the rest of my classmates. Every day in Elementary school, I’d be doomed, I dealt with bullying and people judging my religion. In Middle School I felt consonant, I needed to adjust
For the next 13 years I ate, slept, and shat basketball. Through all my international travel, there was never a lapse in my access to the sport. I would peak at the age of 16, being ranked the 3rd best player in my metropolitan area and the leader of the second best team in said area. Unfortunately, during my junior year I endured a career ending knee injury that made me assess how much I truly loved the game. I quickly came to realize that I did not love it enough to push my body through the recovery process required to reach my pinnacle fitness level needed to return to full activity.
November 13th, 2016, it was my first day of tryouts for Power Volleyball Club and little did I know that my life would change forever. I was hoping to make the elite team so that I could travel around Wisconsin and play the sport I love. Fifteen minutes before the end of the long, intimidating tryouts, something unthinkable and unimaginable happened. I jumped up for a tight ball close to the net and came down on someone's foot on the opposing side which caused me to roll and snap all three ligaments in my ankle. I remember laying on the gym floor crying and weeping loudly as my mom came running to my side with a grimace look on her face.
We ended up losing in the playoffs and I played again the next season, but after the following season I realized that I still had not recovered anywhere close to 100%. I went from being the fastest player on the field to an average player. On top of that, my knee was just as swollen as before and I picked up a bad limp because of the scar tissue that gathered up in my knee over time. I found that the cause of this was because I hadn’t attained full range of motion before getting back on the field. However, what hurt me the most was when I overheard my Dad talking about how hard it was to watch me run because my limp was so bad.
The Doctor hung his head as he broke the news to my parents. They pulled me out and sat me in a wheelchair. The doctor told me something I will never forget. “Mr. Lake you hurt yourself really bad, It’s an ACL injury...”. I knew what an ACL was and I looked at him in disbelief.
It was the start of summer 2002, and the Mid America Youth Basketball (MAYB) national tournament was taking place in Andover, Kansas. Along with the rest of the team, I was excited to play some basketball for the first time since the middle school basketball season was over. Our team, Carlon Oil, had been together and played every summer for the last four years. We were a really good team, with an overall record of 65-4 over those four years and were hoping to continue our legacy. Lonnie Lollar, our coach for the summer, was also the coach of our high school basketball team. I had a history of groin injuries, and every summer it seemed that I would have to sit out at least a game on the bench icing my groin. But this summer was different, and I along with everyone in the gym wouldn't have expected my summer to end with a injury such as a broken leg.