I still remember it vividly.
I was a shy, skinny kid playing on the junior varsity basketball team. After our JV games, two of us were selected to dress in uniform for the varsity game that followed. Our varsity team was stacked with 12 upperclassmen, so if we were selected, we would simply chat at the end of the bench as the 13th and 14th men with no chance of actually playing.
One night, I was selected to dress varsity for a game against our rival. The radio station was there. The student sections were overflowing. I was relaxed and enjoying the raucous atmosphere when a strange series of events began to occur.
Our starting point guard broke his hand punching a wall after missing a layup in pregame warmups. The backup point guard injured his ankle in the first quarter, and the third-string point guard picked up his fourth foul in the second quarter. I remember asking him why he was having a seat next to me on the bench when I thought I heard the word, ‘Vessa.’
I didn’t move. Maybe I was paralyzed with fear. Maybe I hoped that I misheard.
I didn’t mishear.
I played the final minute of the first half without sending an opposing player away on a breakaway dunk and breathed a sigh of relief that I had survived the moment.
Then, in the locker room, I was told I would be starting the second half. My mother was at home listening to the game on the radio. She thought she heard my name mentioned and was certain the announcers misread the roster. Just in case, she drove to the gymnasium for the second half.
I don’t remember the intensity of the crowd or the full court pressure. I just remember playing the best half of basketball I ever played. I finished the game with eight assists and no turnovers. After the game, my mother said she was sure someone else had taken over my body.
I didn’t get into another varsity game that season, and it didn’t matter. I had proven to myself that, somewhere within me, I had the mental toughness to perform in that situation.
I often wonder if that moment helped guide me into the field of education, where I became a teacher and high school baseball and basketball coach for 21 years. I wanted to help others seize their moment, even if they didn’t believe they were ready for it.
Now, I am in the business of celebrating those moments. Celebrating the athleticism and the courage to perform in front of family and friends knowing there is a chance of failure. Celebrating the show of sportsmanship regardless of the result.
It’s a level of pressure and accountability that is difficult to simulate in a classroom. Taking a high-stakes test doesn’t affect one’s classmates or school community. It is not watched by live spectators or broadcast to people at home.
It’s pressure unique to athletics, and excelling in those tense moments is worth celebrating:
Like when the St. Joseph’s field hockey team executed a penalty corner to perfection with triple zeros on the clock to send a state quarterfinal to overtime. Or when soccer goalkeeper Cole Chambers made two miraculous, diving saves in PKs to clinch an improbable state title for SLUH. Or when Scotty Adkinson was named Gatorade Player-of-the-Year in the morning and showed everybody why a few hours later to lead Webster Groves to a state basketball title.
But the value of high school athletics ranges far beyond the games. It’s the relationships, the school spirit, the bus rides, team dinners and bonding activities. It’s the pride of the school and the community. It’s watching neighbors, or kids we once coached, competing on their varsity teams.
And above all for me, it’s witnessing the strength, courage and resiliency of young people. It’s seeing Gabriel Weber playing stick sports like field hockey and lacrosse despite being born with one arm. It’s watching Ryan Warner drape a state bowling medal around his neck alongside a locket containing his brother’s ashes.
High school sports provide immeasurable value on so many levels, but sometimes, an ugly side emerges. Adults with selfish intentions or misplaced anger toxically impact the experience. Those stories need to be investigated and told, too.
But the good far outweighs the bad, and in a few hours, another year of high school athletics begins.
During the summer months, within developmental camps and showcases, there is often a search for individual recognition, ‘How can I be better than those around me?’ During the high school season, the question becomes, ‘How can I make those around me, better?’
Playing high school sports requires being a part of something larger than oneself – it’s honoring the name on the front of jersey and the community of people it represents. It’s playing with friends, some known forever, some recently met. And it’s working towards a common goal that is achievable through hard work, commitment and a love for one another.
Shortly, it will all come to life. Lessons will be learned and memories made that will impact young people for the rest of their lives.
And Metro Sports STL will be there to tell as many of those stories as possible.
Special thanks to Athletic Republic STL, Gateway Field Hockey, Aim Field Hockey and Rhode Communications for sponsoring this website this fall. Advertising and sponsorship inquiries can be emailed to admin@metrosportsstl.com.