Until I was about 25, I was certain I would end up playing basketball in the NBA. So, this is a post about how having irrational dreams can help you get through difficult times. The value of detaching a bit from reality.
There was zero evidence for my dreams. I’m under six feet tall. I’m not very good at basketball. I grew up in South London and played for my high school team. We sucked. But I loved watching and playing the game more than anything else in the world.
The amazing thing is that nobody stomped on my dreams. They were irrational, sure. But they didn’t harm anybody. And when I found life hard or the grind of studying, not knowing what the future held, or just working at Starbucks got me down, I’d think about the game. A lot. My friends still joke with me that I can’t accept that I can’t dunk. If only I were a little bit taller. Maybe it’s still not too late…
My parents let me play as much as I wanted. The teachers at my school were like, “go for it.” Nobody ever said, “dude, you’re going to write for a living. If you’re very lucky. This American pro athlete idea is crazy. You’re an idiot. For crying out loud.”
And good for them. I came of age during Michael Jordan’s Bulls era. I’d tape the playoff games in the middle of the night and watch them on VHS the next day. I remember studying for exams with the games on. Dennis Rodman was a revelation. This guy dyed his hair and wore dresses. The idea that he could find acceptance with someone like Jordan gave a lot of boys my age hope. You can fit in for being good at what you do, his role on the team said. You can be weird. You don’t need to tone down your eccentricities to fit in. At the time, that was revolutionary. It was easy to gloss over the fact that he was also 6’7″ and an incredible basketball player. You needed to suspend your disbelief.
One reason I was so keen to move to the U.S. when I was 26 was the idea that I could watch NBA games live. It seemed like such an incredible thing to be able to do, to tune in to the games any old night. And at various times in my life, I’ve found myself immersing myself in basketball when real life is hard. When I lived in Oakland in 2015, I’d watch the Warriors play twice a week, all season. I never got to a game at the arena. But knowing they were down the road from our house made me feel like part of the winning. The 6’10” former Warriors center, Adonal Foyle, used to work out at our gym across Frank Ogawa Plaza from the office. Man, that guy was huge. And he was friendly, too. Like, he would say “hi” to you. He used to play with the legendary Baron Davis. I’d do the degrees of separation in my head. Like, “I’m basically Baron Davis, now.” That’s what I’d be thinking.
The NBA season kicked off in earnest last week and suffice to say, I’ve been watching a lot of games. The WNBA season concluded earlier this month with victory for Las Vegas. WNBA games are amazing. Don’t get me wrong. But there’s still no league like the men’s for the extraordinary stories and outsize egos. It’s partly a function of the horrific salary gap, I think. And the fact that several of the players are over seven feet tall. It’s like watching Star Trek, sometimes. The athleticism is barely believable. And the league is huge. There are so many teams and so many stories to follow. I’m excited for the women’s league to continue growing as more teams catch up. It’s good that a generational player like Steph Curry has been so outspoken about boosting the women’s game. He did his college dissertation on women’s inclusion in sports.
There are also parks all over New York with hoops to use. I bought a ball this season and went and shot some, yesterday, during a lull. I’m not saying all is right with the world in America, right now. It most definitely isn’t. I’m not making light of the world’s challenges, either. But spending half an hour shooting a basketball through a hoop helped me feel better for a while. I’m grateful for it. I’m also glad the NBA season has another eight months to go. I’m going to need the crutch to lean on, this year. And I’m so grateful for it.
I hope you’re doing okay no matter how you’re tuning out a bit, lately. And thanks for reading, as always.
—Matt Davis is a communications consultant and writer for a wide variety of clients. He also teaches yoga and lives with his wife and son in New York.
