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By Giantsfan227, Section Other Sports
I was never the brightest student. I couldn't sing like Bruce Springsteen or dance like Chris Brown. I couldn't lift the most weight or run the fastest mile. I never was the best looking and certainly never dated the captain of the cheerleading team. I wasn't really good at much, but I was always superior in one thing; the game of basketball. I came from an extremely athletic family. My dad played basketball at the University of Delaware . He was actually the all time leader in assists until his record was broken a few years ago. His dad played basketball, and his dad's dad played basketball. My mom qualified for the Olympic Games in track, but was unable to compete due to my birth. Yes, I guess I was the mistake.
Never the biggest or strongest guy on the court, I had to figure out other ways to get by. I used to dribble around a racquetball to improve my ball handling and jumped rope to make myself quicker. I shot for hours a day, always trying to perfect my lefty stroke. My dad always told me; "When you're hot, keep shooting, and when you're not hot, keep shooting until you get hot." When I was in 3rd grade, I was asked to play on the middle school basketball team. Most kids my age were busy finger-painting, but I was playing with the "big boys." Undersized and seemingly under matched, opponents couldn't help but chuckle when I walked onto the court. Four three pointers later, they couldn't help but cry. Apparently, I was the real deal. Three years later as a 6th grader, I led my CYO St. Thomas Moore team to 60 consecutive wins and championships each season. I wasn't able to attend the streak ending loss due to other priorities, but now people were starting to take notice. My room looked like the New York Yankees club house and I had more trophies than Andy Reid has chins. I never let the success get to me head, though. I always knew nothing in life came easy, and I would have to keep working until I could barely walk. Then I would work some more. I wasn't the kid who bragged or boasted about my skills, and while the game came easy for me now, I knew it wouldn't always be this way. When I was in 7th grade, I attended a DeSales University basketball game, a division three school primarily known for their baseball program. At halftime, to my surprise, my name was announced over the loud speaker. I remember it like it was yesterday; "Bobby Campbell, please report to the scores table." Basically unaware of what was happening, I slowly jogged over to the scores table and they handed me a ball. Apparently, because of my father's involvement in the school, I was picked to do a halftime shootout, in which I had 45 seconds to make a lay-up, foul shot, three pointer, and the nearly impossible half court shot. I breezed through the first three obstacles, almost looking as if they weren't even challenges. I sprinted to half court because I knew I would need as much time as possible to heave in a half court shot. My adrenaline was high and my first attempt flew way over the backboard. My rebounder threw the ball back to me and the rest was a blur. Somehow, someway, I swished the shot, and celebrated like Phil Mickelson after sinking the putt that finally won him a Major. The Bulldog mascot lifted me up and chants of "Sign him up" echoed throughout the gym.
Now, scouts were starting to come to my games. Parents shook my hand after I dropped 25 on their son. And coaches were throwing everything but the kitchen sink at me in an attempt to stop me. The referee of the game later told me that I was a special player, and this wouldn't be the only time this would happen. He advised me to pay attention because other teams would be gunning for me all the time. I wasn't aware at the time, but this advice could have saved me my High School career. I was supposed to be the next great prodigy at my high school. As it turns out, I never scored a Varsity point. I attended Emmaus High School , in Pennsylvania , the same school as Aaron Gray, former Pitt. Center and now a Chicago Bull, went to. My freshmen year, the Varsity coach retired. He had been watching me play since I was in 6th grade, and was a family friend, which could never hurt. Now a new coach was running the team and the season was approaching quickly. With all the responsibilities of being a new coach with so little time, I was overlooked and forced to play freshmen ball, with my age group, for the first time in my life. It wasn't all bad though, I would be starting varsity point guard next season. After a successful freshmen year, I was ready to take over the starting job at the point after the department of the previous starter. But I never got my chance. In a summer league game against Allen High School , I stole the ball and was on fast-break. I went up for the shot, and the defender threw me to the ground head first. I don't remember much after that, but my high school basketball career was over in a flash. I worked my whole life to be a varsity basketball player, but that chance was ripped away from me. All the "fame" of my younger years seemed worthless. Suddenly, there weren't so many trophies in my room anymore.
I still pick up a ball every now and then and shoot some jumpers. In case you were wondering, the shot is still cash. But every time I shoot, I can't help but to think of the opportunity that slipped away from me. I guess that's what some people call life.
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