Instructor: Stan Heaton
21 September 2010
"Three - two – one – aahnt!! And the University of Kentucky Wildcats are your 1996 National Champions!" Beginning on that day, I ate, slept, and breathed sports. I recall replaying that moment over and over in my driveway. "He dribbles in and back out, he shoots . . . he scores! And the crowd goes wild," I would announce as I completed a play and took the victory lap around the court. I imagined I was a member of the Wildcats, leading my team to a National Title. My parents swear I was born a sports fanatic. I became an athlete at a very young age. Unlike most boys I didn't play with G. I. Joe's or play Indians and Cowboys. I played ball. Soccer, basketball, football; you name it, I played it. And I didn’t watch cartoons either. Instead, Sports Center was on our television twenty-four seven. As a boy, my favorite teams were the University of Kentucky Wildcats, Cincinnati Bengals, and the Reds. But that didn’t keep me from watching anything and everything that dealt with sports. Looking through old photo albums, I wonder if I owned anything other than athletic apparel! I remember learning my multiples of seven quicker than any others, as each touchdown equals seven points. As I grew a little older, I played many organized sports and even took up wake surfing and golf for leisure. Reflecting back on my life, one thing hasn't changed: the impact sports has, and continues to have, on my identity. In 4th grade, I played basketball for a league at my elementary school. It’s the last game of the season. Every moment is imperative; every move must be carefully executed, as the final game had been within only a few points at the end of each quarter. Flying down the lane, I dribble to the corner of the court. “Three – two!” the crowd yells. I can feel my blood pulse fiercely through my whole body. I shoot the ball over the defender, and hold my...