Tag: 2023-05-05 Newsletter

Balling in America

  • How I Came to Love Basketball

    When I was in fifth grade, I transferred to a new school.

    My previous school was in a densely populated neighborhood in Macau. The school playground for 1,500 students was the size of one basketball court. The school banned students from running in the playground at all times except during PE classes.

    When I first walked into Colegio Dom Bosco, I was stunned: there were eight basketball hoops, a soccer field, and an indoor gymnasium. My new school allowed students to play sports anytime: before class, during recess, during PE, during lunch break, and after school.

    You must be joking.

    A religious society called the Salesians of Don Bosco managed the school. John Bosco, the society’s founder, was an Italian priest who dedicated his life to poor youth in Turin, Italy, in the 19th century. Bosco believed play must be an integral part of education, and sports should be available to all.

    I didn’t know anything about Don Bosco then, nor did I care. All I knew was that I played basketball four times a day. It was heavenly.

    On the other hand, my mother wasn’t too pleased.

    Many mornings when I walked out of the house in my ironed uniform–a white shirt, white pants, and a maroon tie in the winter–my mother reminded me that I was expected to be home by 4:30 pm sharp. She said I’d better get on the first available bus after school. I nodded.

    School ended. My friends inevitably asked, “Game?”

    Sure, why not. I have time.

    When I walked into the house at six o’clock, panting, my mother was furious. The buses were full, I said, and there was traffic. She pointed to the dark ring of stain that had formed around my collar from sweating. When I looked down, I noticed my white pants had turned gray. My black leather shoes had scuffs and scratches. I smelled terrible.

    But I didn’t care. I was having the best time of my life. That was far more important than keeping my uniform clean or getting home on time.

  • Balling with the Americans

    Two weeks after I arrived in America, I took a bus to Target–the one on Stevens Creek Boulevard in Cupertino. I located the sports aisle and settled on a $24.99 Spalding indoor/outdoor basketball. The cheaper $19.99 Wilson tempted me, but five dollars seemed a reasonable premium for a ball with a better grip.

    I went to an outdoor court near my apartment. The court was empty, so I practiced layups with my new ball. Ten minutes later, five guys showed up. They asked if I was interested in a game.

    I was nervous: I had never played basketball with Americans before. 

    Do they all really good?

    Two of the guys were much taller than me–must have been at least 6’4″–and I imagined them dunking. But I was the last player they needed for a 3-on-3, so I said yes.

    The group was friendly. At first, I didn’t understand what they meant when they said, “Let’s do 1’s and 2’s” and “Clear everything,” but thankfully, basketball is a simple game: you score when the ball goes into the hoop.

    They were all better players than me, but I had fun.

  • What Kept Me In the Game

    While packing my gym bag last Saturday, I held my basketball for a second. The sense of anticipation, of possibilities, hadn’t changed since fifth grade.

    What I love the most about basketball is the experience of focusing on one thing. When a game is on, the rest of the world melts away. The only thing that matters is the play at hand. There is no time for analysis when you must make hundreds of nuanced decisions within milliseconds. There is no room to dwell on the last airball when the other team comes up with another attack. There’s no choice but to let go of the busy mind, rely on the body, and let instinct take over.

    The game makes me feel free and alive. That’s why I go back for more.



    “It hadn’t really ever occurred to me to let things flow the opposite way. But that’s what knitting did. It reversed the flow. It buckled my churning brain into the back seat and allowed my hands to drive the car for a while. It detoured me away from my anxiety, just enough to provide some relief. Any time I picked up those needles, I’d feel the rearrangement, my fingers doing the work, my mind trailing behind.”

    Michelle Obama on knitting, from her book The Light We Carry