Basketball has brought me everlasting memories filled with pure joy. Some of the most exhilarating and ecstatic moments throughout my life happened during basketball. On the contradictory, it has also brought me some of my most stressful, exhausting, and demanding days all mixed in with the joy. However, out of all the enjoyment it has brought me, some of the ultimate joy came early when I was in high school.
Home games were my absolute favorite. Manasquan High School - the school where both my parents graduated from, the sending distract for the six small beach towns near, the place where bathrooms were always locked because students couldn’t wait to vape for more than 30 minutes - my school was awesome. We had an old, small gym. Our basketball rims were worn out, the nets were old, and the floors were fading. The bleachers in the gym sat only a few feet away from the court, close enough where I could touch the crowd during a game. Our small, run-down gym was home to many old souls and a destination for many newcomers.
Friday nights in Manasquan High School gym became the hot spot for our town. At first glance, our empty gym may look degrading, but it is only an illusion. By the time of tip-off, the only floor in the gym you can see is the actual court itself. Every bleacher in the gym is always stuffed, and all the seats almost always sell out. It is always wintertime during our season, and people were always walking in covered head to toe with coats. Gradually the coats came off, layer by layer until everyone was down to the barest layer they had on, but still sweating through it. Newcomers stand off to the sides and others who were unlucky getting in tried to peak in from the hallways. It was all so fascinating for me to be the main cause behind it all, and witness the excitement our games brought to the fans. There were a few games that I would stop for a second in the middle of a timeout. I’d take a step away from my focus for a moment to look around me. The fans were brilliant. Every single game they are here. A good or bad game, home or away game, our fans were loyal. We had a group of alumni that hadn’t missed a game in 20+ years. Fans coming from hours away, some even from other states. An old friend would always show up every now and then, and that was a warming feeling. Even more uplifting, our girl's basketball team had more recognition, fans, and a better record than our boy's team at the time. However, aside from the warmth basketball brought me in high school, the most beautiful part has yet to be said.
The most heart-warming, unbelievable part of it all was the connection basketball brought to my entire family. My parents have been divorced as far back as my memory extends. Before high school basketball, I had never in my life seen both sides of my family get along. Even the simplicity of inviting a cousin on my dad's side over to my mom's house had its discomfort. My two cousins, Addie and Faith both played with me in high school. When people watched Addie, Faith and I play basketball together, they were amazed. We played in sync, and we were fun and exciting to watch. Not only that, but we were notorious for winning, especially in clutch situations and buzzer-beaters. We were constantly in the newspaper, getting lots of notice. Over time, my dad's entire side of the family began to come to the games, and eventually, it turned into a Friday night ritual. The entire family gradually started sitting in the same section each game.
Game by game, more and more family appeared to be sitting in the same section, directly across from our bench. My mom's side of the family is nowhere near as big as my dad's, but they would always be at all the games. The wall built up between the two separate sides of the family was crashing down. In theory, no matter which side of the family someone is considered to be on, family is family and should always be one of your loudest supporters. Both sides of my family finally came together, looking like one. The pride and support became deafening and beautiful. Soon after everybody started sitting with one another, my grandma on my mom’s side, Geeg, began telling me a story about how Grandma Clark (dad’s grandma) was laughing. It all seemed too good to be true.
The existence that both sides of my family can connect all lies within the support from
each other. My own connection to my family is something that felt missing for me for most of my life. It is ironic that the strong, intense connection between my cousins Addie and Faith and myself is ultimately what brought my entire family together, and it truly was a magical moment to witness.
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