On the court that day, to put it simply, I was on my shit. That potential was on display on the first day of tryouts, with me and about 50 other kids essentially battling for a chance to permanently ride the bench of a major Big East program.
If there was one word to describe my game at the age of 19 it was, potential. What I lacked in fundamentals (which was a lot), I made up for in creativity, finesse, and will power. I was 6’3″, athletic with a high motor, and highly competitive. I played in high school, but had only started to find real confidence after my senior year was over. For what it’s worth, in this small basketball community of non student-athletes, I was one of the top players. There were a lot of dudes on campus that played high school ball and some could have easily played for a low level division I team. I spent that entire school year playing five days a week on campus against some quality competition from across the country. I promised myself I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. A year earlier I had failed to do the proper paperwork and missed my opportunity to try out as a freshman. On paper, the thought of potentially making a college basketball team roster should have been exciting, but for the past 24 hours I was going through it. I stared at the ceiling while lying in bed, contemplating my final decision.
I was one of the 10 hopefuls that got a call back from day one. John’s University, where the second and final round of tryouts were to be held this morning at 6:30. It was about a 10-minute walk across campus to Taffner Field House, the newly-built practice facility for the Men’s basketball team at St. “If you’re gonna go, you need to leave by 6:15,” I said to myself. The noisy digital clock had a wooden surface and a black screen with glowing red numbers on it that read “6:00.” I opened my eyes and quickly rolled over to stop the alarm, mindful of my two roommates who shared the tiny dorm with me.
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