INTERRUPTED

Reading a chapter of C.S. Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters" tonight made me think of the 2010-2011 Western Christian Fighting Lancers Basketball team I coached that year. They were, in a word, stellar! But here's why.

In chapter 22 of the book, Screwtape continues his advice to his protege Wormwood. If you've not read it, it's an imaginative work depicting how an apprentice demon might mentor a junior devil on how to ensure the failure of his subject, a human. And this human could be you, could be me or anyone hated by the biblical Satan. But in this particular chapter tonight it was, at least in part, about how the interruptions of life make us angry and how that can be used to destroy lives. See, no one likes intrusions. They get in the way of our objectives don't they? Well, in 2010 the season began at the Webb Tournament and it was the third quarter when Andrew Hyde, my best player, went down with a torn ACL off of a routine rebound. It was an immediate deletion of a leader and flat out go-to guy. The word interruption is an insult here.

This was unjust, criminal, a tragedy. Hyde was a senior along with the other 11 young men on the squad. I had 12 freakin' seniors man who had played together for the better part of 3 years in some combination. Not only that, but they liked each other, hung out away from school and had come to own just enough swag to set them up for a championship run their senior year. But when big Drew went down, it was crazy to watch what transpired.

A group of kids who had already lost their star player along with their previous coach whom they trusted decided to reassign (themselves) roles. They didn't have a private meeting as far as I know but everyone morphed. Mark McMahon led us in rebounding, steals and assists while Michael Broad led us in scoring. Damian Jara was our tireless floor general and defender of all point guards not wearing our uniform. Kevin Michalak started playing like a man 5 inches taller while Zack Carpenter started draining 3's. Joe Allen took a charge from anyone stupid enough to run him over and Tyler Hong exploded for points against some of our toughest opponents. Chris Weeks committed himself to making his minutes count by playing our system with precision and remaining that spiritual leader. Christian Solis rejoined the team after his teammates voted him back in. He had quit to focus on his primary sport, football, but returned to give the team a physicality only he could bring. Jason Ji, our big man form Asia, worked his way back onto the team after quitting and humbly accepted his challenge to earn the respect of his comrades. He succeeded in that and displayed great skill when he finally got a chance to shine. Danny Chakbazof broke down defenses and stuck opponents with 3-balls from multiple locations around the arc. And my man Andrew Hyde? He legitimately functioned as a third coach. He saw things we coaches couldn't see and had the capital with his brothers to communicate it.

In a situation where immaturity could have defined them, the 2010-2011 Fighting Lancers opted to respond the way they had been trained by parents, former coaches and their Faith. It's almost three years later that I reflect and write because I realize the power of choice when it comes to the intrusions life will bring. What will you do when you're interrupted?

ENEMY or OPPONENT?

We used to talk about opponents in basketball as the enemy. I took it literally too and struggled to turn that switch off sometimes. I mean, if you're a boxer, how do you beat a dude up or get beaten up and then shake that guy's hand after it's all over? I'll catch clips of UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) bouts from time-to-time and I marvel at the conditioning but even more-so at their ability to respect one another. Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) is brutal man. You're in a cage with a guy wearing compression shorts and you can't run. It's like kill or be killed or at least submit or force him into submission. The gloves are minimally padded too. I'm not sure I wanna do dinner after that meeting. But I'm sure many of them do.

I think that the difference between an opponent and an enemy is that an opponent is opposite you for a fixed period of time whereas your enemy...? Well, he's sworn, a lifetime foe, your permanent adversary. An enemy is probably sourced in evil, fully committed to your demise. That dude stickin' you on the perimeter (so-to-speak) is not necessarily an enemy though we might need to view him  that way for motivation's sake in the heat of a contest.

In hoop, I've seen players intentionally hurt people, namely in scenarios where two people are competing for the same contract or starting spot. I've been involved in those "scrimmages" that often become "skirmishes." There's nothing worse than someone taking a cheap shot at you. But I'm starting to recognize that while people do plenty of bad things, they themselves can change if they understand what's driving them to do the evil. Hood lessons are prolific and one of them (unstated of course) says that the best way to win a job is to eliminate the competition by any means needed. But subscribing to this thinking means we've bought a lie. Sooner or later there's always an opponent bigger, faster, stronger and more gifted than you. The ENEMY is not the dude guarding you; the enemy is YOU, or at least something in you.

How many times does fear lead us to cowardice. The player who's afraid of not getting the position will resort to all kinds of brutal tactics because he's selfish, arrogant and desperate. But when you face fears head-on, you can make sense of an opportunity and understand that our real enemy is probably almost always fear. There's a real enemy out there but he ain't a man. Most of the time he looks like LONELINESS, ANGER, ENTITLEMENT and even GRIEF. Don't people do weird things when they feel isolated, furious, like they deserve more or like they've lost something? I know I do. Next time you square up with an opponent, start trying to see the real enemy. Trust me, you'll play better.

SWIIIIIIIIITCH!

DJs used to do that during a jam. You're dancing with someone and he yells out...SWIIIIIIITCH! And you're trying to get ya game up talkin' to the girl you're dancing with right now but DJ just called it out so you gotta move. Gotta change partners. Not Cool!

Speakin' of switchin', it's funny how we gain and lose appetites for things. Kids start drinking coffee before they're 10 years old now. I didn't really start 'til I was about 27/28 and even then it was seldom. I remember working out for pro basketball and boycotting all things caffeinated, sugar-laden and dairy. So my affinity for coffee and tea probably began more like at age 32/33. I'm down for a cup-a-day now. A dude I hang out with told me that he used to drink like 25 cups some days when he was in the Marines. C'mon son....

Anyway, I was on that Spotify the way I normally indulge and I hit that juke box vibe and took it back to 1995. I dug up Das Efx, a 90s rap duo that I listened to back then. I went to the tracks I remembered liking. The tracks started, beat kicked in and I was 18-20 years old for like 5 minutes. Ah but then it happened. Something didn't taste right. Yo, it was the lyrics. They really didn't make sense to me anymore. It was like I'd had a gross change in palette. And it wasn't just the profanity because that was actually minimal. But it was the reverberation about sexual prowess, violent exploits and hedonism. I couldn't stand the refrain. Not all the songs dealt in those three themes but bottom line...MY TASTE FOR SUPERFICIAL MUSIC MAY BE GONE. I ain't for certain but I think I may actually be growing up. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a hip-hop guy down with the underground likes of Theory Hazit, Eshon Burgundy, Derek Minor, Deepspace 5 etc. But I'm good on that other stuff.

The coolest part is when you're not trying to be noble, not trying to prove that you've chosen a more refined rap alternative. It's cool when the right choices just kind of find you because something on the inside of you has changed. I wish I could still listen to DJ Quik the way I used to. Somehow I don't see that wish being granted and I'm fine with that. #authenticity

RESOLUTE IN ACTION gentle in manner

Maybe being an underdog is the prerequisite of courage.

One of the guys on the tandem bike is going to the University of Southern California (USC) next fall when he should be enjoying senior year of high school. There won't be one last homecoming, a senior night for varsity basketball, a prom, a "You-should-kneel-before-the-senior" mentality. It's a forfeiture of significant proportion, especially since the guy headed to college is going to be two years younger than every other freshman on campus (by-and-large). He already skipped a grade and now he's skipping the last year of secondary ed to take his talents to the land of Troy.

It's wild because when you coach dudes who aren't NBA or college basketball bound, you wonder how they're processing the practices, the rigorous demands and such. But the guy in question was arguably the smallest and hardest working player on my team two seasons ago. No questions asked, he committed to anything he attempted, taking charges from opposing players more than twice his weight. As a sophomore, he injured himself in a game or in a practice (can't recall) and he cut his back on a portion of the bleachers. It resulted in an infection that kept him out of action for nearly a month. Who gets injured by the bleachers? How many players are even willing to make plays that involve the seats (LOL). If JD Kumala is 135 pounds I'd be shocked and suspicious. But what he lacks in girth he compensates for via something much more valuable and transferable.

Sometimes you run across these strange individuals who, while aware of obstacles, engage every single one of them because it's what they've always done. They aren't trying to prove a point. They're not the Kobe Bryant types, too unapproachable to like. These types of folks are simply resolute, refusing to NOT strive. This morning he said, about the task ahead,

"Coach...I'm really putting myself on a limb this time because I'll be at least two years younger than everyone else. I hope I'll be able to manage it..."

I ain't even responded yet but I know what I'm gonna say. You're good! You don't manage the unchangeable! Being younger than everyone else, missing high school because you left early, wading into a university world when all you've known is private Christian education in its fish bowl...that's just the reality of the station you're in youngblood. What JD will do is trust God, employ his true identity and maintain a thirst for learning. It's who he is. Who are you?

OPERATOR ERROR

How many times have I been fouled, hacked and hammered in games I've played. I mean...I'm being fouled in that picture on the left. That was actually one of the tougher regions too (LOL). Thankfully the foul sent me to the free throw line where I believe I converted. But I'm almost positive I missed the shot in the photo. Seemed like a "gimme" too but it's so easy to lose concentration, to focus on the things that matter but that don't matter as much as say...finishing the play.

There's always a main thing, always a prime objective. I see guys getting hurt all the time in pick-up games at my church and the reasons vary. But the main one is simply that the operator isn't surveying the situation and walks, stumbles or runs into a precarious tendon-threatening scenario. I'd like to believe that I've learned my lesson or at least am in process of doing so.


What dangers lurk? Anticipation is always the mark of a veteran. There's no such thing as blaming fire for the burn. Proximity is the nemesis no? When I started college, I went to beach party where a teammate told me a story about his brother laughing and joking while tip-toeing near a bonfire. He was cacklin', being loud, drinkin' brew, just chillin'. The laughter turned to squall, screeches and squeals when he fell in that bonfire. I still die just thinking about it. Funniest scene ever. He survived by the way.

There's always risk and we're always the one operating in the reality of the risk. There is a way to play it. Keep ya head up today! Expect the contact. Seek the wisdom you need in order to finish what needs finishing.

THERE ARE NO NO-BRAINERS

You always have to think. That's what I learned yesterday. As a rule, you can't get away with assumption - that is - taking for granted that others understand you. Most of the time, people don't understand one another. And there's a good chance that it's because they don't want to understand one another. I came to this conclusion yesterday at Sushi. Yes I eat Sushi. I realize it's 2013 and everybody is all eclectic but even saying I eat Sushi requires courage. I mean...I'm very black, whatever that means, and originally from South Central Los Angeles, home of Church's Chicken and Tam's #5. Guys like me aren't your usual candidates for cuisine involving raw seafood. But I ruminated over crunchy rolls yesterday with a co-worker and then I received this text from a young guy I hang out with some time. He wanted to chat about something vital to the next several months of his life and he was like, "Where you at?" and I was like, "I'm over here with these chopsticks. What you wanna do youngblood?" "I'm comin' through," he responded.

So, lunch with one friend turned into lunch with two friends. But one of the friends (the younger one) needed to talk serious. So we did. It was a no-brainer too...to me. The relationship I had with this young man required my sitting, my listening, maybe even my input. And it felt natural as if this is why I'm on the planet. Can you imagine? Put on the planet to talk to people, to listen, to counsel? But you can never assume that spending time in this way on a Monday afternoon is valued by others. If someone asked me what I did yesterday afternoon, would I have been proud? Would I have been embarrassed because this is not deemed "work" in our society? Would I have spun the truth a little? It's a no-brainer that I did what needed to be done right? Wrong! What is right though is that I took time to examine the situation with a young brotha. He needed discourse, the kind that can impact life-changing decisions. I guess the moral goes a little something like..."DO THE RIGHT THING, even it's not a no-brainer to the world around you."

SMELLING SALTS

Who's your go-to when you need inspiration? Life gets stupid pretty quickly and the motivation to be creative can dip drastically in a moment and without warning. These are the times when we're desperately in need of resuscitation, a life breath and/or stimulant. It's so easy to scapegoat kids and practicality as the culprits of dream extermination. "I had some dreams but hey...I gotta do what needs doing."

By this logic, my body needs to dump waste from time-to-time. It's a non-negotiable right? And since I gotta do what I gotta do, I better steer clear of recreation and plans to live a fulfilling life. There's a list of "gotta-dos" that still don't explain why we're not operating from places of passion. The way people follow kids around to soccer games on the weekend you would think the whole of American parents dreamed as children that they would one day grow up and watch packs of kids follow a ball around. I can picture parents as 5th graders saying to themselves that they aspire to abandon music, jettison athletics and discard a love for literature because...well...that sounds awesome. Nah bruh...that sounds like the stupidest, most counter intuitive thing ever. Basketball wakes me up, as does singing, guitar playing and writing blogs like this one. I have several passions and they better start showing up more in your life and mine or else...