28th May 2024
Once, when I was a young boy, I was shooting the basketball in front of my house. My dad came to join me 30 minutes later. And then, my next-door neighbour, who I didn’t know, came and asked, “Wanna play together?” My dad said yes. And we played two-on-one.
When the game was over, and the young kid left, my dad turned to me and said, “You need to be more like that boy.” I didn’t know what he meant. “You need to be proactive and ask other children to play with you.”
It’s true. I have always been in my own bubble. I understood the world through my eyes and not by touch. I only needed one or two friends. Or in some periods, none. I was an all-in kind of kid. If I had a friend, I would just invest all my time with him. I never felt the need for more.
10 years later, I look back at all this, and I understand so much more.
I will tell that young kid that you should enjoy every second of playing basketball with you father. Because that would be the only time he does so (my father started a business the year I was a born. So, he was always busy. My mother raised me in the early days but then it quickly became drivers and maids as she became occupied).
So, the person giving you the advice is also part of the problem.
But that’s okay. I hold nothing against them. Being a parent is difficult. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
I don’t enjoy the mirror. I don’t like looking at myself. I am constantly at war with myself. I think, “Am I that young boy” Or am I me today? Someone who is so different, and yet the same time someone so similar.
I look back at my old clothes, just from a few years ago, and I think, “I would never wear this.” I look at pictures of myself, and it feels like I’m looking at a stranger. My old playlist is boring to me now. Some of my old friends are people I would never let my son get close to.
I look back at some of the things I’ve done, and the puzzle starts coming together. I understand why I pushed that person away and not the other. I understand why I did something so terrible to him and her. I understand why I said some things that I regretted. And I understand why I get mad when thinking about those imperfections.
My favorite words are bravery, kindness, and tomorrow.
Bravery, because life is nothing without it. Kindness, because life is insufferable without it. And tomorrow, not today, because there’s always something to look forward to and it’s never too late.
When I look back at that young kid playing basketball wondering what life is, I hope I can tell him that it’s all going to be okay – so far, we’ve done alright for ourselves. I hope I can warn him for all the mistakes he’s about to make. All those insecurities and struggling, they will all lead you to a better path.
I wish I can tell him to ignore everyone else and only trust yourself. Whatever you feel is true, is indeed true. Whatever change and inspection you feel is necessary, go out and do it. And whoever makes your life worse and not better, well, the hell with them.
Don’t worry about whether the shot is going in. Don’t worry about the perfect shot. Nor the people or neighbour, or whether you’re wearing the right shoes or have the perfect form. Don’t worry about if someone can dribble or shoot better. Don’t worry and don’t compare.
Instead, listen to the birds’ chirp in the background. Bask in the sun you’re under. Enjoy the sound of the ball going through the net whenever you make the perfect shot. And enjoy grabbing the rebound every time you miss. Shoot until you have nothing left and all you want is to go home and drink an iced cola.
Read everything you can grab ahold of. Everything you need to know are in between those pages. The current book is your best friend. Don’t listen to your parents. And don’t enjoy any of their compliment when you have a book in your hand – they’re just projecting.
No one can make fun of a man in an arena, son, not even yourself.
I wish I can tell you all the mistakes you’re going to make. Every word that should and shouldn’t be uttered. Every action that you took that ended in a disaster; every hesitation; and every regret.
But without those mistakes there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. There would not have been you, today, writing, grateful for all those mistakes you’ve made. There wouldn’t have been a story. There would have been no hero. And there would have been no happy ending.
The promise I can make to you is that I’ve never forgotten – I share the same dreams and ambitions that you have as a 11-year-old. The same things you enjoy I do too. The same things make us laugh. And the same things make us cry too.
And I think, we’re going to get there, together.
The one thing that hasn’t changed is you have not gotten smarter. I continue to make mistakes today.
The only difference is, I’ll only make them once now.
In the end, if I was standing right by your side on that Saturday afternoon, I would say shoot until you have nothing left, kid. The night will be kind to us for this. The ghosts of regret will hunt someone else. And there would always be a tomorrow to look forward to.
If I can tell you something, it is that kiddo – just keep shooting.
Alistair's blog 