JOGAS BEM (PORTUGUESE)

There’s a young boy who sent me a few words about his discouragement concerning his basketball practice. The following text is for him and for all those who think they’re not good enough.

Let me tell you a story. Many years ago I was in France in a campus. I only slept there, but I couldn’t ignore the outdoors basketball court and the gym. So I asked around and found out they had practice every now and then. So I joined them. We lit up the court, lowered the basketball boards and started to warm up.

There were students from all over the world. Also two Americans. I had someone take this picture of us. I’m the white guy, right? We started playing and soon I got panicked. They took the ball from me like candy from a baby (Meow I don’t want to hear it!). Perspiration flooded me – and it wasn’t from the effort. I was 40 and I thought I could put up a good fight with almost anyone; well, that “almost anyone” found me in Salève, France, and ruined my self-image. It was the first time I seriously considered never playing basketball again. I know it’s stupid, but I gotta tell you: sometimes you get so ashamed and low that you feel like dumping even the best thing in your life. It happens in marriage. It happens in school, it happens with what you know you’re good at. It happens with basketball. These guys were so fast. And I don’t mean fast as in “I can take away the ball from you”, but fast as in “do you guys know where’s the ball I’ve just hold in my hand?” That fast.

We played with other guys. I made sure these two black thunderbolts played in different teams. I got to guard a Portuguese fellah. Man, was he good. But this one I could match. Barely. We appreciated each other’s play by using one another’s language; he said to me “joci bine” and I honestly returned the courtesy saying “Jogas bem” (you play well).

I resented the way I had played. And as I look back I can understand that when you’re down, quitting seems the most reasonable thing to do. It’s not, but this is how you feel. And you can’t help it. What you must do is to wait for the storm to blow over. Don’t make any decisions at a time like this.

We all have times when everything we are seems useless to us. But if you would listen to reason for a moment, you’d know that there’re things you cannot do, like play one on one with Michael Jordan and win for real. Some are just… better equipped for the job than we are. That’s why fighters go to their designated category. A 125 pounds boxer doesn’t fight a 250 pounds pugilist. There’re rules of… engagement. Yet, sometimes we meet our 250 pounds adversary and we engage him. And we lose big time. That’s when we feel it was a bad idea doing what we were doing. And then is when we’re wrong.

Let’s get back to basketball. There are also times – numerous too – when we seem to have a really bad run of it and no matter what we do, someone seems to be faster, better, more accurate. Your hands seem to be tied up. You go home silently, chew something – presumably food – hit the sack and fall asleep only after hours of squirming in bed, burned by the question “what’s wrong with me?”

Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re ok. You’re playing fine. You’ll be better as the years go by. Who knows, maybe you’ll even teach a class of your own later on. I want you to remember this: winning is the prize, but winning comes in many forms. Losing a game doesn’t make you a loser. Not fighting back is what makes a definite loser. Those watching the game admire you, even when you lose, because you’re on the battlefield, wearing the colors of your team. This is in itself a great honor! Admit it: basketball is your life and it’s rooted deep in your heart. You feel like yanking it out of your chest because this is how you feel right now: like dying. This hurting is good. It means you love being a player and not being one would take away the meaning of your life.

I know you. I’ve watched you. You’re good. “Jogas bem”. You need to be on the court, dribbling and shooting, screening and passing. It’s your life. It’s too late to say it never happened. You’ll always be firmly and deftly pushing the ball on the floor… and taking in… the sound you live for…

Sandu BARBU - Jogas bem

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