A Tournament and a Meeting

3-on-3 Baller Tournament

El Pomar

Big Man.

Do you remember a couple weeks ago I mentioned a 3-on-3 tournament that I had chickened out of? Well, I did actually end up playing and I’m so glad I did because it was an amazing experience. The environment was completely different from what I was used to and I learned many things. Some of the basics of basketball were brought to my attention.

One example was faking (or in Spanish ‘amagando’). After receiving a pretty bad block, one of my teammates reminded me: “Cinthia, all you need to do is fake. Especially when you are close to the basket.”

Another one that came up, which I’m very familiar with, was fouling.

“If you see a guy is coming at you with speed and is going up for the layup, rip his arms off.” was Oso’s little motivational speech in between plays.

The day was humid and there was hardly any air circulation in the gym El Pomar. We were all sweating like pigs and dumping water on our heads in order to keep cool. Because of the humidity, the floor was very slippery. Also, it probably hadn’t been cleaned in awhile. Apart from that, the court was beautiful (my standards have definitely dropped since moving to Argentina): parquet floor, firmly clamped rings, and metal nets that made a clinking sound when a ball passed through them.

I had a really great time and although we won 1 of 3 games, I left feeling satisfied.

On the following Tuesday, pulling out from a long weekend, the day brought the possibility of having a team meeting with my female ballers. By midday, I had received 4 texts from separate team members and one missed call. I called back to confirm that, yes, I’d be at El Talar later tonight to chat.

And at 9:30 o’clock this team meeting did go down. Twelve of us brought together chairs and sat around a long table in our club’s bar. I was tired and hungry after a long day of work, and noticed my grumpiness when the young waiter apologetically informed me there were no empanadas de queso y cebolla. I told him I wouldn’t be having anything and decided to just focus on the different voices coming from my team.

“What are our goals for next year?”

“Are we going to look for a new trainer?”

“Are we going to sign up for ABA?”

“What do we REALLY want?”

Two hours later, I stepped out of El Talar with Cari. The team meeting had been an open floor of individual feelings, but still nothing concrete had been decided. But for some reason or other, I wasn’t frustrated. However, I was pretty exhausted from the day and before leaving Cari at her bus stop I said: “I think it is time for me to look for another team. I want something different.”

She smiled widely at me and nodded. We waved good-bye.

The whole bus ride home I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted from basketball in this moment of my life.

Defense.

The Finals

Oso.

Fear

Devoto Court.

Jump-shot.

A couple weeks ago, I agreed to sign up for a 3-on-3 ball tournament run by a local basketball clothing brand. I was very excited, not only because it was my first tournament, but because I finally felt confident enough to put out my skills for many to see. Or so I thought.

“What do you mean you don’t want to play anymore? You want to back out?”

I calmly tried to explain my reasons to a sad and disappointed face: the fee for teams went up and we wouldn’t be able to negotiation a lower price.

“And ..and..well, I just don’t feel comfortable. What if I get in the way? You guys need a tall player…I’m not a useful 4 or 5…and..”

One of the biggest challenges I confront while on the court has nothing to do with the physical. Instead, it’s the mental and emotional fears that slow me down most of the time. Fear of failure, of being embarrassed, of really screwing something up.

At the R.A.C., I had phases where I spent much of my time not playing, but watching, because of my fear of court rejection.

“Why aren’t you on the court?” a friend would ask. Meanwhile, my back was up against the wall, feet dangling with clean shoes on. I’d just shrug my shoulders, unable to admit that some days I just didn’t have the energy to stand up to my fear.

I suppose all ballers come up against personal insecurities and there comes a point when you realize if you don’t take care of these fears, you will never progress. This mechanism to protect yourself from failing and making mistakes, in turn, limits your opportunity to learn and improve. It can really stunt your evolution as a player and many of my initial years were about getting over these doubts in my ability.

On Tuesdays, the A Women’s team in my club trains before us. I sometimes arrive a bit early and watch their last chunk of practise. Their runs are more intricate, their passes strong and accurate. All-together it is a faster basketball, more precise, and a notch up from my team. Me and Silvi watched from the side bench and I had a thought: why had I never tried to get on the A-team? Physically I could, although time wise, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make the commitment. And then it hit me: fear.

The only reason I didn’t at least try-out for the team was because of the overwhelming presence of fear around my heart. I sat in amazement at my own realization, while Silvi turned to me quietly: “They are quite in shape, aren’t they…”

I think I still have a chance to get in on the 3-on-3 tournament and I understand that all I have to do is focus on my game. There will probably always be a little voice, hinting to the negative, but if I raise the volume on the other voices, like the belief in my strengths, I can overcome these fears.