More Than a Game

Dear basketball, From the first time I rolled up my dad’s tube socks and aimed at an

imaginary rim, I dreamed of game-winning shots. The gym didn’t exist yet.

The crowd was silent. But the feeling was real. Somewhere between those quiet moments

and the echo of the ball on the floor, I fell in love with you.

You taught me patience. You taught me failure. And you taught me to keep shooting even when no one

was watching. Dear basketball— this has always been more than a game.