Super Skilled Me

(4)

          The team bus is packed as always. Coach prefers the boys to travel together, so he rented a Greyhound for our away games. Usually the boys play cards or listen to music on the journey. I have my wireless earbuds plugged in, going through my usual pre-game playlist. I always try to get my mind into a place psychologically where I can get pumped up. But I also do a good job of staying in the now, not letting my emotions get too out of hand, and do so by being present in the moment and taking deep breaths.

          I've always been fond of Notre Dame's campus, admiring the scenery as we drive through. They have beautiful, green lawns and fountains of water pouring down in the warmer seasons. There are many students and professors outside, but they can't notice us, because the team bus has tinted windows. As I mentioned before, Notre Dame is a feisty group on the basketball court. They like to play with tempo, and can really wear you down with their passionate, tenacious crowds barking at you all night.

          As we pull in and park near the gym, Coach Meldrum stands up and gives a quick rundown.

          "Alright," he says, wearing a backpack over his left shoulder. "You guys know the drill. We're gonna get changed, have a quick team meeting, then hit the court with thirty minutes before the game."

          We nod our heads, gradually following him off the bus with our bags and gear. We each thank Berry, the driver. He takes us to all of our away games, and is a nice guy in general.

          As we enter the side doors of the gym, we're briefly spotted by a few opposing fans, waiting to get their spots in the gymnasium. We're already heckled by a couple of them, telling us that we stand no chance, and that they aren't the same team from last year. One guy even notices me and says to his buddy, "Most overrated player I've ever seen." Being known across the province, let alone the entire nation, I do run into my haters here and there. But I actually enjoy it. I use them as motivation. Some people would shy away from that pressure and let their words get to them, but I lean in and embrace the challenge.

          Once we arrive in the changing room, we waste no time, getting down to business and swapping into our uniforms and shoes. I have two pairs of shoes that I bring around with me. I have the LeBron James ones my parents bought me for my birthday, and also the Kobe Bryant signature shoes, as he was one of my favourite players before passing away in the tragic helicopter crash. I decide that I'm going with the LeBron's, only because I had worn the Kobe's every day in practice, since the start of training camp.

          After Meldrum comes in and runs us through the breakdown of tonight's plan, we're ready to go, jogging onto the court for warm-up. The gym is being played with music and the crowds are really starting to sink in. Taking some quick jumpers and trick shots, we naturally form into a layup line, running the same drill that coach expects of every game. Each time I lay the ball in, I make sure to run to halfcourt and touch the centre line with my hand. I really like to get the blood flowing before a matchup.

          A couple of guys on the team are throwing down some dunks before the game starts. We're not a high-flying group like some of the boys back east, but there's still a couple of us who can get up and bang one down—myself included. I'm only 6'2", which no, is not tall for basketball standards. But I have large hands, so I can palm the ball and hold it above the rim. When we switch to the left-hand side of the layup drill, I make sure to throw one down. I'm not a standout dunker, but two points are the same as two points, so I've never been ashamed of it.

          When the two-minute mark before the game starts, Meldrum calls us in for the last team huddle and pep talk. As always, I'm starting the game, so I take a seat down on the bench with Kevin, T-roy, Jeffrey, and a small forward by the name of Melvin Direton. By this point, the atmosphere is really picking up. The rowdy Notre Dame fans are making their presence known by banging on drums and blowing horns, yet I enjoy every second of it.