I walked into our high school's gym on my first day of basketball practice knowing that this was going to be a great season. All I wanted was to be captain. I was the only returning senior, my teammates all seemed to like and look up to me, so it was in the bag, right?

Wrong.

By the end of our second practice of the day, two juniors were named co-captains and my world was crushed. Looking back at it now, I'm not sure why that was so important to me but it was and all I knew in that moment was that I didn't make it. (Of course, me being me, I felt like I had failed.)

That first day of practice was just the beginning of a season of hell for me. I had to do every sprint drill at least twice because I always finished last. I was yelled at, told in front of the whole team that I had no athletic ability, and made fun of for being so clumsy. All by my coach.

Yet, I was always the first on the court and the last one to leave. I loved it. I loved the game. I loved watching the game and breaking it down in my head. I loved getting the chance to get in the game. I loved my team.

Those were some of the best moments in high school for me. I looked forward to every practice and every game because these girls were my friends. They were, for me, my sisters. My senior year, I became the big sister, and maybe that's why I wanted to be captain. I wanted everyone to know I was the big sister.

What I didn't know was I didn't need to be captain for every one to know that.

The last home game of the season was senior night. Out of the kindness of her blackened heart, my coach decided to let me start. Before the game, I was to walk while holding my parents' hands to center court. I was at the end of our bench talking with my parents when all of a sudden I realized that the whole gym was chanting.

I got chills on my arms when I realized that they were chanting my name.

My teammates (and all of the cheerleaders) had lined up in two lines on each side of me. It took me ten minutes to get through those lines because I hugged and/or high fived all of them. When I hugged the last person, I looked up and every single person in the gym was standing and clapping. For me.

They gave the clumsy, slow, no talent, short, sometimes playing point guard a standing ovation.

That had to be the greatest night of my basketball career. (OK, no. I'm lying. The best night of my basketball career was a rec club game. I scored twelve points in a championship game, and my varsity coach asked my rec club coach how did he get me to play so well. His answer was, "I don't yell at her.")

I think about that night now and I always smile. I can close my eyes and replay ever single step I took. I see their faces and just how proud they all were of me. And it also makes me wonder why it's so damn hard for me to just be proud of myself.

I'm really going to work on that. If a couple hundred people could be proud of me for simply showing up to represent my school mostly by riding the bench, then certainly I can be proud of myself more.

Yep. I really think I can. No wait! I really think I am.

Yeah, that's better.

I began playing basketball when I was 12. I was the tallest on my team and was taught to play center and forward and loved every minute of it.

Just one year later, every one else grew, and I didn't. I went from being the tallest on the team to on of the shortest. I went from playing forward and center, to playing guard. The problem with that is that I wasn't a great ball handler. In fact, I'm not super athletic at all. I had to work very hard at playing basketball.

I ended up trying out for the school squad, made the team, but sat the bench during the 8th grade. In 10th grade, I had worked my way up to sixth man. (This means, you're the first sub in during a game.) I played a lot, and I loved it.

Then came varsity and back to riding the bench. My coach was convinced that I had no business playing basketball yet, instead of cutting me, she kept me on the team and would put me in the last minute of every game. Fun stuff, huh?

Let's skip to my senior year. I was the only senior on the team, was determined to make captain, and didn't. Not because my teammates didn't vote for me, but because the coach didn't want me to be a captain. I could have quit right then, but I didn't. I decided to stick it out. I earned some playing time by not playing in our Jrs versus Srs flag football game during homecoming week, but I still only average around 2 mins a game.

Then one day, we were playing the team that was known for the best player in the area. She was super quick, scored a lot of points, and was definitely on her way to playing college basketball. And within the first few minutes, she was well on her way to beating us herself. (This also caused our coach to throw her suit jacket on the floor much in Bobby Knight fashion. I'm convinced that the only reason she ever wore that jacket was so she could take it off and throw it.)

All of a sudden I hear, "April! Get in there for (I forget who)! And you got Shelley."

Do you want to take a guess at who Shelley was? You guessed it. The best player in the league. I'm not quick, and I'm short. This could end bad. I knew our coach had done that just to try to humiliate me. She had plenty of other talented players that could have handled this assignment.

In a split second, I decided I was not going to let this end poorly. I had a game plan. I knew she was quicker than me, so I played half a step off. What this means is that when guarding her, I backed up just a bit more than I would someone else I may guard so that I could keep up with her. Also, I learned quickly that I could anticipate her every move by just watching her eyes. (In basketball, you're taught to watch the ball on defense. Or at least I was.) As good as she was, she telegraphed her every move.

I held the best player in our league to just 5 points the whole time I guarded her in the first half. She was frustrated. To help matters, I matched her 5 points.

I would love to tell you that in the second half, I made the winning basket. The truth is once we got back in the game and had a chance to win, she pulled me, and I went back to my seat on the bench. We still lost that game, but it wasn't because SHE beat us. It was because THEY beat us, and that for me was a personal victory.

Life sometimes reminds me of that player. It can be quicker and taller and ready to kick my ass single-handed. Some days, it's going to score a career high on me. That's just going to happen. I can't predict when it will, but I can try to prepare myself.

There was a time in my life when I let life control me. I worried about where I was, where I had been, and where I was going. While I can be laid back, I like to know where I'm going. Where things are headed. Truth is, I still worry, but I'm learning to not let life control me. I have a game plan. I try to play half a step off. That way I can keep up and try to anticipate.

Yes, some days, I'm going to lose the game. In fact, I may lose a lot, but as long as I can have small personal victories in life, like I did that day on the court, I think I'll be just fine. No. I know I will.

Just play half a step off. ;o)