Finding Purpose In Basketball Part 2

I have always had trouble focusing too much on sports, going so far as defining myself as Colin Ring, the athlete. My competitive edge that has oftentimes pushed me to work harder has also made sports an all-consuming black hole, sucking away the other aspects of my personhood. Last week, I recapped how finding purpose in basketball began to affect how I played the game (see Finding Purpose In Basketball Part 1), and this week I am going to cover how making basketball my reason for living ended with me quitting the game I once loved.  

Towards the end of our 8th grade season, I had my first ever full panic attack on the basketball court during a game against MICDS, who we had already played multiple times this year. They were a very solid team top to bottom, but we had always been competitive with them. For some reason, though, the game felt different for me. It probably had something to do with the varsity coaches watching, along with a few of my classmates. Whatever the reason, I literally couldn’t move. 

For some of you readers who have never experienced an acute anxiety attack, I would attribute the feeling as living through your worst fear in slow motion. My hands and feet were cold as ice, my body shaking. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t think. I thought I was going to pass out. To the outside world, I was doing fine – albeit I was a complete non factor in the game. To me, though, I thought I was going to die. I remember listening to the coach give his postgame speech (we lost) and then quickly getting my basketball bag without talking to anyone because I couldn’t talk to anyone without completely breaking down. Holding back tears, I ran to my mom’s car and my exhausted, pent-up sobs started to come out – full of both relief and anger. 

These panic attacks quickly became more frequent as our team played summer basketball a few months later. It began to have an obvious effect on my performance: when I was by myself, I could sink multiple free throws in a row, no problem. When I was in a game, though, I felt all the eyes staring at me and I so badly wanted to make it that I over–thought about it. This usually led to a whole lot of bad misses and slowly building frustration. I dreaded every game that we played multiple days in advance, and as the game drew nearer, my anxiety increased. I would yell at my parents, isolate myself from others, and, of course, shoot hoops for about 4 or 5 hours each day because I was so scared I wasn’t going to play well.

After a successful 2018 freshman cross country season, I made the JV basketball team. It was an honor to make the team, but I just couldn’t handle the even greater pressure I put on myself at the high school level to perform. Although I always used the excuse that being on a different team than most of my friends on the freshman team was no fun, the real reason I quit was I could not live up to my own expectations, and I was too anxious to enjoy the game. 

I quit after three days of practice. 

I had worked endlessly to make myself a better basketball player, not because I loved it, but because I wanted to impress others. I was playing for the adoration and the respect I wanted so badly. My purpose was being a good basketball player. It became who I was. Now that it was gone, I needed to find my meaning in something new, something different. Unfortunately, it didn’t take me long to latch my purpose onto another sport. Instead of Colin Ring the basketball player, I was now Colin Ring, the runner.