As I thought of my motivations to shave, I realized that I have three main motivations for nearly everything I do in my life: my wife, my faith, and sports.
Why am I still in school? Because my wife won't let me quit and because a prophet of God, Gordon B. Hinckley, said to "Get as much education as possible."
Why couldn't I attend your wedding reception? Because BYU was playing Utah that day.
Why am I going to clip my fingernails tomorrow? Because today I have a game and clipping them now will affect how the ball feels coming off my fingers.
Why did I skip my test retake? BYU had a game that night. And boy, am I glad I went! Craig Cusick's buzzer beater to defeat Utah State will be a great memory.
Why was I on Academic Warning after two of my first four semesters at college? Because school was getting in the way of March Madness.
Why do I want to move to Indiana? Basketball is their culture, and I want it to be mine.
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| Switch hitting from an early age in my Stockton length shorts. |
When I was young my favorite sport would fluctuate with whatever season it was. In the summer it was baseball (how many six year-old switch hitters do you know?), in the fall it was football, in the winter it was basketball. But one thing always remained constant, and that was the tiny, plastic, adjustable basketball hoop that lived in my basement. I played on that thing even when my head was high above the five-foot rim. It was a staple in my home.
It was on that basket where I first developed my knack for shooting the ball. I discovered I had some "sweet spots" where I felt like I never missed. I loved being a shooter. That continued when my dad got an adjustable standard for our driveway in Colorado. I loved to shoot from as far away as I possibly could, and boy was I excited when I would nail a shot from the sidewalk at the end of the driveway.
I started to play organized ball when my family moved to Washington just after my tenth birthday. I remember being told by my friend's mother that I would one day be a great three-point shooter. I wondered why she said that because I didn't even attempt a three-pointer as a ten year old. It was outside my range and I knew it. But she pointed out that even when I had a clear lane to the basket, I would dribble out for a shot at the edge of my range. And I would make it.
I never became a "great" long-distance shooter. I never even became a volume scorer in my competitive career, not by any stretch of the imagination. But to an extent she was right. I eventually discovered I had some of those "sweet spots" on a real court. I felt like I never missed from the elbow, and whenever I could I would pull up for that mid-range jumper. My high school coaches my senior year gave me the green light to pull the trigger from deep, but for most of the season I lacked the confidence to do so. I shot one three in the regular season, but my 100 percent 3-point shooting percentage is still a school record. If, of course, you ignore the minimum attempts requirement. Now, after my competitive career is over, I've found my basketball niche from beyond the arc. On my rec and intramural teams, that's what I'm there for: to hit threes.
After playing parks and rec in Washington, I finally graduated to school ball and made the seventh grade "B" team. I was a starter for much of the year, but I don't think I ever made a significant contribution. I barely remember that season, but I do remember it was the last I would play for a long time.
I hit a dark place in my life in eighth grade. I was running with the wrong friends, and being a stupid kid. I lacked a lot of self-confidence; I was picked on for being a bit of a geek and teased relentlessly for being Mormon. I went where I was accepted. It just so happened that was a small group of friends that were gamers and big-time nerds. I don't want to be critical of them. I'm sure they turned out to be great guys, but at the time they certainly did not encourage me to be even remotely who I was at the core. From the end of my seventh grade basketball season to the spring of my freshman year of high school I didn't play a single organized sport.
It was tough to get my life back on track. In the spring of my freshman year I knew what I had to do: I had to start playing sports again. I went back and forth in my decision between baseball and golf, but I eventually landed on baseball. I had been a decent Little Leaguer, and there aren't a lot of switch-hitters out there so I figured I had a shot. Boy was I wrong. My high school had the top baseball program in the state, and if the coaches didn't have an eye on you for the past few years, you didn't stand a chance. And to be honest, I just wasn't that good anymore. I was cut from the team.
After being cut, I knew I still had to play something. This time I couldn't decide between track and tennis. I actually talked to one of the track coaches, and I will always respect what he said to me. He didn't try and recruit me to the track team, but he instead tried to help me make the decision that was best for me. He asked, "Well, you play basketball don't you?" He was unaware that I had given up basketball, and for some reason I still responded with a yes. He then said, "Tennis would be really good for your footwork in basketball. You might want to consider that."
I did, and it began a wonderful love affair with the game of tennis. For the remainder of high school, tennis was my game and how I defined myself. I finished my inaugural tennis season on Varsity, quite an accomplishment considering it was the first time in my life I had played the sport competitively.
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| 2005 District Tennis Tournament in Hanford, WA |
I had a fairly successful year in doubles, but eventually I was moved to playing number two singles. Going into the district tournament I had still never won a Varsity singles match. I lost a close match in the first round, and I lost an even closer one in the consolation round. I was heartbroken my career was ending win-less in singles.
I moved to England desperate to find a way to compete in tennis. I played frequently with my dad and anyone else I could find. I was attending an American school and they nicknamed me "Tennis Boy" because that is really who I was. I competed in a couple of tournaments around the country with no success, but I was still enjoying my time competing.
My junior year I ran track. I hated running in circles, but I was a pretty decent distance runner. Nothing amazing, but not bad. My coach loved me and thought I had a ton of potential as a runner, even telling me he thought I could earn a track scholarship to BYU, but my senior year I opted not to run cross country. Instead, that same coach, because he loved me and respected my decision, helped arrange for me to play tennis against other American schools in England even though it wasn't officially sanctioned. I appreciated this opportunity, but it was where my competitive tennis career would end. I was ever-so-lightly recruited to play college tennis - and by that I mean I never received an offer and I was only contacted by a couple of schools - but that was where it ended.
After school one day, late in the fall of my senior year, I was at the gym with a bunch of my friends from school shooting a basketball. Most of the guys were gearing up for the start of the basketball season, and they had casually recruited me a couple of times simply because I am 6'3".
For the first time in a long time, I picked up a basketball to shoot. I went to the left elbow, that old sweet spot of mine, pulled up, and then let it fly. I missed, but I believe that shot has forever changed the course of my life.
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Immediately after I let that shot go, the recruiting to get me to play ball my senior year intensified. Le'Shawn, a classmate of mine, ran over to me and immediately made the announcement I was playing basketball that year. It was like I didn't even have a say in the matter. I quickly pointed out that I had missed the shot, but apparently that didn't matter. He saw the form and the technique. He saw the potential. And he recruited me hard.
My tennis career was over, and I knew it. The words of that track coach in Washington were ringing in my head. "Well, you play basketball don't you? Tennis would be really good for your footwork in basketball. You might want to consider that."
I did consider it. And I decided to play basketball my senior year. My high school had 95 students. 16 people tried out for the team that year, and for the first time ever they were going to be making cuts. One day after practice I had to ask my coach a question. I started "Coach, if I make the team..." He cut me off, looked me dead in the eyes, and said with a smile, "You're going to make the team." I didn't realize how much I wanted it until I heard those words. I was thrilled to play basketball again.
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| Division IV European Runner-ups: Menwith Hill HS |
It was a magical season. Menwith Hill High School, perennial cellar dwellers in tiny Division IV, went on to win a DIII conference crown and finish second in the European Championships. It was the kind of season Hollywood makes movies about. It was Hoosiers meets Glory Road meets Coach Carter. A tiny underdog school with a bunch of misfits battle adversity, including academic suspensions and violent attacks in the town, to win their conference and play for the title. We lost to the defending DIII champions who had been downsized to DIV. Maybe one day I'll write the story of that season in full, but for now I think it's sufficient to say that that magical run cemented a love for basketball in my heart forever.
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During my freshman year of college I played on what may be the worst intramural basketball team in the history of the sport. Games were played on a 40 minute running clock and I remember losing one game by 50 points. That's not a joke.
After my freshman year, I served a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in northern Colorado and western Nebraska. It was a remarkable experience, and one that I don't regret in the slightest. I played basketball maybe twice a month on average throughout the two years, but if you were to ask me if I would rather have my mission memories or my basketball memories, I would take the mission every time.
Having said that, even a mission increased my love of basketball. I came home hungry. I wanted to play basketball and get my skills back and improve as much as I could. I took a basketball class my second semester back so that I could play several times a week and have a coach helping me get back on track. I played a rusty but exciting intramural season and it just felt good to play consistently again.
At the time I was PE Teaching and Coaching major. Perhaps my favorite class that I have ever taken was called "Coaching Basketball." I was coached on how to coach the game that I love. Immediately following the semester I tested what I had learned as I coached a sixth grade Jr. Jazz basketball team.
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| The "Senseis" after practice (missing one player) |
We lost our first game because of my limited coaching experience. I hadn't learned how to manage my timeouts and we ended up losing a real tight game because I couldn't stop the clock and run a play out of bounds under our own basket. Would we have hit a game winning shot? I'll never know, but I learned a something that day: despite all my experience playing, watching, and studying basketball, I was still clueless on how to coach. I could run a practice and organize my team, but I still needed to learn how to manage a game.
I put everything into that volunteer coaching position because I was afraid I had jumped in too deep and might let these kids down. Having played a variety of sports for most of my life I know the impact a coach has. Sometimes it is good, and sometimes it is bad. I wanted to make sure my impact was an overwhelmingly positive one. I bought instructional DVDs, I read books - and if you know me you know it's a big deal for me to take the time to read - about coaching, I emailed my high school assistant coach and asked for his advice, and I talked to my dad several times a week to run new ideas by him and seek his counsel. Most importantly I worked closely with my roommate and assistant coach Adam. We discussed the team as a whole and players as individuals to diagnose problems and draw up and execute practice plans. We did everything we could to give this team the greatest possibility to succeed.
I know that for sixth graders wins and losses are insignificant. Many people don't believe they should even be acknowledged at that age. But for this team I believe it reflects my learning curve as a coach, and therefore the learning curve of my players. We started the season 1-3 but finished 5-3. We finished the season on an incredible four game winning streak. Each week we got better and better, culminating in a game they turned the scoreboard off just after halftime because we were winning by about 30. We estimate we won that game by approximately 50 points on a 32 minute running clock. That's not a joke.
I joked that our star player would probably be a starter on my intramural team that year. Actually, that may not be a joke, either.
As you can tell, I am extremely proud of this team. I know they are only in sixth grade, but there are a few of them I expect to watch on ESPN one day. Even if none of them decide to pursue an athletic career, they were all incredible young men that will make a difference in the world. My prideful nature hopes that I played a role in that.
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Coaching had an impact on my intramural playing "career" as well. As a coach I focused on the fundamentals, and as a result I got back to the basics as a player and I played remarkable, albeit inconsistent. I scored a lifetime high of 15 points twice that season, only to be bested by a 19 point effort later that year. I was also held scoreless in two of the six games, including the last game of the season.
Once again I was hungry for more. I planned to play basketball nearly every day over my summer break. My life took an unexpectedly beautiful turn that altered those plans dramatically. I met Shantel, a gorgeous girl who got my attention the day we met, which happened to be the first day of that summer break. We started dating and I spent nearly all my time either at work or with her and left myself very little room for basketball. Much like my mission, she took priority over basketball, and I don't regret it for a second. We were married on November 17, 2012.
I didn't know how it was going to be balancing two schedules, so I decided to take this season off from coaching. I am, however, just beginning a second job instructing and officiating first and second grade basketball. I officiated a little bit in my teenage years, but I am excited to once again take part in another aspect of the game.
I am a basketball player, coach, fan, analyst, and official. I love this game.
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By no means do I feel that my story and experience in basketball is remarkable, but I do believe it is unique. My experience has led me to a deep and incredible love for basketball and I want to be a part of its magic for the rest of my life. That love has led me to where I am in my life now: seeking a culture of basketball.
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