No Coincidences

Tag: basketball

  • Suns Experience

    Suns Experience

    Last week I got to play on the Phoenix Suns court. It was an awesome experience, one of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten to do. Huge shoutout to Robert, his wife Brooke, and Blake for making it happen. We got exclusive access to the court and were able to play pickup for three hours. Well, some of us were able to play for hours… more on that later.

    Some basketball thoughts from playing on a real NBA court.

    First, those lights are bright. When I’d shoot from the corners, if I watched the ball arc up before it got to the rim, I’d be blinded by the lights. If I looked up unconsciously while playing, I got blinded. Never thought about what it would be like to actually play under the “bright lights.”Speaking of the corners, it is a tight fit. Shooting an NBA three from the corner gives barely enough room for your feet. If you take a step back at all to try to explode toward the hoop, you’re stepping out of bounds. I have size 10 shoes. I don’t know how the size 20s even do it.

    Speaking of the lights, part of the package with getting to play on the court was we got to watch the Suns play that night against the Orlando Magic. We got to watch from the suite level with food and drink included. I’ve been to many Suns games, but this was a unique game to watch due to having been on the court just hours earlier. These things I mentioned like the lights and the tight space from the corner were things I considered more than I ever had before. The other thing that stood out to me that I’d never thought about before was how hectic an environment this was for NBA players to play basketball in.

    Basketball is a refuge for me. It’s therapeutic. Playing on an NBA court with thousands of people watching cannot be therapeutic.

    An NBA game is a chaotic and hectic experience. Of course, there are the thousands of people watching, yelling, and trash-talking. That’s crazy in and of itself. But what struck me the most after having played on the court was how loud the music was. While we played, we had a pretty chill March Madness game playing on the big screen with the volume on what I’d guess was around medium. It was still distracting. Watching that game later against the Magic I was focused on the NOISE, the MUSIC, and the BASS.

    It is pandemonium at an NBA game. For some reason I’d always thought the NBA players were a bit sheltered from the noise. After playing on the court, I realized it’s the opposite. They are at the bottom, center of a dome. All the noise and chaos are amplified on the court. It gave me my first true appreciation of home-court advantage. That chaos is one thing, but when it’s a chaos you’re not used to, (on the road visiting another stadium) with fans heckling you the whole time, it’s complete sensory overload.

    So, back to my time on the court, unfortunately I got hurt the beginning of the second game. I was running and just stepped wrong and twisted my ankle bad. It actually happened at almost the exact spot where Kevin Durant twisted his ankle while doing a routine warm-up layup a couple weeks earlier.

    Probably exactly what my ankle looked like, same spot.

    After I rolled my ankle, I at least got to see what it was like to be treated like an NBA player for a moment. Multiple trainers checked on me and brought me ice. It was a bit embarrassing. I got to spend the rest of the pickup session jealously watching with ice on my ankle from the sideline.

    Here’s the part where I insert what I learned spiritually from this experience.

    I’ve twisted that ankle at least 3 dozen times, not exaggerating. It’s never fun. It’s always painful.

    That night, I was laying in bed with my ankle propped up on pillows. I’d already discarded the ice that was on it. It was the middle of the night and my foot was THROBBING. It hurt.

    It hurt badly enough that I started praying for relief. I don’t want to be dramatic. I know that on the pain scale, what I was experiencing was pretty mild. But still, it hurt. That’s when I started thinking about every groin pull, every sprained ankle, every concussion, every headache, every upset stomach, every scalping, every stitch, every ingrown toenail, every scratch, every bruise, every heartache, every heartbreak, every disappointment, every fear, every doubt.

    How could He have felt it all?

    Here I was, writhing in pain, whining, praying for relief, over a sprained ankle. And He felt every sprained ankle of every person that ever did or would exist, all in a moment. He felt it all. How?

    I ponder often on the Atonement. I’ve tried to wrap my head around it. It’s not something we can wrap our heads around. That’s the point. He did something unimaginable. He did something incomprehensible. And he did it for us.

    I believe (I know) that Christ felt it all that night at Gethsemane. I don’t know how; I can’t understand it. But I know He did. It’s why I write about Him, it’s why I think about Him, it’s why I serve Him. Because for a long time, I tried to forget what He did for me because of guilt, or incomprehension, or selfishness. But now I think the most important thing I do outside of anything with my family is write about Him.

    I think the most important thing I do for my daughters is teach them about Him. Few things bring me as much joy as when Ivy sees a picture, I ask, “who’s that?” And she replies, “Jesus.” I hope someone reads this that needs to remember Him and what He did for us. When you think about what He did for us, ultimately it must make us more loving because we’re considering a love that is unfathomable. That makes us better.

  • Flagstaff, Falling out of Bed, and Adversity

    Flagstaff, Falling out of Bed, and Adversity

    We were in Flagstaff after New Years. We drove up the morning of 1/2/23 in a brand new year. We met my family, who drove from Las Vegas, for lunch. My family included Mom, Dad, Dresdan, Kodi Joe, and Easton. After lunch, we found some little hills at a park to go sledding. Ivy loved sledding. It’s possible she loved it a little too much. The moment the sled stopped at the bottom of the hill, and sometimes before the sled even stopped, she would be saying, “again, again, again.” If I paused a moment to catch my breath she’d get upset.

    After sledding, we went back to our hotels to get cleaned up. My family came to our hotel and we played games.

    The next day we went sledding again. It was interesting how quickly Ivy turned on sledding. She was excited to get out there, and after we went down one hill I received the normal, “again, again, again.” After the second time down the hill, she was done.

    “Do you want to go again?” I asked.

    “No.”

    Just like that, Ivy was done sledding. We did a little more sledding, which she tolerated. Then Ivy saw the park and swings that were nearby. All she wanted to do was swing after that. Ivy loves swings.

    We all had lunch after sledding and parted ways. The drive to Las Vegas is nearly four hours and it was pretty stormy. It had been snowing for some time and the temperature was around 25 degrees.

    Beth and I sat in the parking lot trying to decide what to do. We were in Flagstaff primarily for a St. Mary’s basketball game. We still had some time before we needed to be at the gym. The plan had been for us to drive home after the basketball game. Beth was worried about driving home after it had been raining and snowing with the roads being icy. My lack of concern came not from bravery but from a complete ignorance of snow.

    Beth had strong feelings against driving home at night on unsafe roads which trumped my blissful ignorance. We audibled to finding a hotel room for the night and then went to the gym.

    The team was late due to bus troubles but ultimately arrived safely and we were able to have a basketball game. All I’ll say about this game was Flagstaff High School, on top of having a very good team, also had a significant home-court advantage. You try getting a bus of Phoenix high school girls that never see snow to focus on a basketball game after driving up in a snowstorm. After the game, the Flagstaff High School team looked confused as our team ran outside to roll around in the snow. We overheard, “they must not see snow much” as we walked to our car.

    We checked into a new hotel that night. Hotels with Ivy are fun. She gets so excited. She likes to walk around the room and be present with the whole family. Ivy and I share a bed while Beth and Sage get the other.

    Sleeping in the same bed as Ivy is an extreme adventure. I never know when I’m going to get kicked or slapped. Every time I wake up and look at Ivy she’s in a completely different position.

    At some point in the middle of the night, I awoke to a thump sound on the opposite side of the bed. You know how when you’re awoken by a noise, it usually takes your brain a minute or two to understand what it just heard? That didn’t happen with this sound. I knew exactly what happened the moment my brain woke up to it. I can’t remember how I got to the other side of the bed. I don’t know if I jumped to all fours on the bed like Spiderman and leaped to the other side, or if I jumped off the bed and ran around. It was most likely the latter. However I got there, I arrived before the tears even started.

    I found Ivy’s shape on the floor with my hands as it was pitch dark and I couldn’t see anything. I scooped her into my arms as she started to cry. I held her head to my should and told her it would be ok. As I rocked her I told Ivy that we were going to get back in bed but I would hold her and she would be safe. She stopped crying immediately and said, “yes.” We got back into the bed and I slept the rest of the night with Ivy in my arms.

    As I thought back on this, I was struck by something. I was struck by how quickly Ivy stopped crying. The moment I told her I was going to hold her and she was going to be safe, her simple reply “yes” and she was completely at peace. I was so glad I could be there for her and make her know she was safe.

    I think in this life we can often feel like God isn’t there to hug us and make us feel safe as quickly as we’d like. I think we forget that in God’s time, His reaction is instant. It just feels longer for us. I believe God is always there ready and willing to wrap us in a protective hug, whether we realize it or not.

    Another thing I was struck by was how quickly I reacted. If there was ever any doubt in my mind about whether I would jump in front of a moving vehicle to save my daughters, that doubt is gone. I would throw myself in front of danger for my girls without hesitation. I know that.

    Back to that Flagstaff High School basketball game, I wasn’t skimming over the details of that game only because I wanted to move creatively through the story. I didn’t want to talk too much about how badly we got our butts kicked.

    We’ve had mostly close games this season and a couple bad blowouts to two of the best teams in Arizona. Thinking back on that game, I realized how proud of the team I was. The first half was the lowest low. Our team gave up and practically stopped playing. Their heads were down and they were resigned to a bad loss. We had a serious talk with them at halftime about doing their best no matter what the score was. I pulled some girls aside that were leaders on the team and told them I was disappointed in their reaction to losing. I told them I knew they were disappointed, frustrated, upset, and embarrassed; so was I. But they had to be leaders, stay positive, and encourage their teammates.

    The second half we were like a different team. We still weren’t the better team, but we were a better team. I got slightly emotional thinking about how big a turnaround those girls showed in the second half. Instead of continuing to pout and give up, they encouraged each other and really tried to be better.

    I don’t get emotional like that thinking about the average game. It’s the intensely adverse games that I think back on and get very proud of our teams.

    I would never wish for Ivy to fall off the bed. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of glad it happened. It was a chance for me to see how quickly I would react to the pain of my daughter. It gave Ivy a chance to see I am there for her and I will protect her. Will I always be able to react that quickly? No. But Ivy is starting to learn I am always there.

    I think this life is about learning God is also always there.

    Would I ever wish my basketball team to get beaten by an obscene amount of points? Of course not… except, well, it gives them the greatest opportunity to grow. Getting blown out is a real opportunity to see what kind of person each girl is. I truly believe getting blown out in a basketball game is teaching those girls a valuable lesson about getting your teeth kicked in in real life and how you react to it.

    Moth’s come to a flame because it is warm and comforting. While the flame is warm and comforting, eventually warmth and comfort make you stagnant, and before you realize it, you’re stuck or worse, burnt. It’s the adversity and challenges in life that shape us and keep us on our toes.

    Adversity can give us amazing opportunities to see what kind of person we are. It’s easy to be kind, encouraging, and happy when life is all good and nothing difficult is happening. It’s a little more challenging when life is throwing all the roadblocks your way.

    I know (Doctrine and Covenants 121) that this is how God feels about adversity. He doesn’t love that we have to go through it, but He knows we have to go through it.

    Adversity is our greatest opportunity to see what we’re really made of. As I get older and more “mature” I can say with more and more honesty that I am grateful for adversity as it gives me the best opportunity to find out what kind of person I really am.

  • The Eyes of God

    The Eyes of God

    I don’t think anything makes me feel closer to God than staring into the eyes of my babies. I’ve written about it before HERE. I don’t remember this specifically with Ivy, though I’m sure it happened. But with Sage I’ve stared into her eyes and it’s the most outstanding, humbling feeling.

    What did I do to deserve this gift?

    As I hold Sage and she begins to drift off into sleep, while comfortably in my arms, I wonder what I did to deserve so much trust. She is so comfortable in my arms, so content, so peaceful, so trusting. Why does she trust me? What did I do to earn that trust?

    Nothing.

    Or maybe everything.

    I don’t know how Sage, Ivy, and I interacted before coming here. Before coming to earth were we best friends, running around, shooting hoops, reading books, taking walks? Maybe I did earn that trust.

    What did I do to earn the trust of God, to send His daughters to me?

    As I stare into Sage’s eyes, I see the eyes of God.

    She is His daughter. She is of His lineage. She is a princess, not of me, but of Him. And as I stare into her eyes, I think that’s the overwhelming, outstanding, humbling feeling I get, that I described above. It’s looking into the eyes of God.

  • Do We Really Want to be like Jesus?

    Do We Really Want to be like Jesus?

    I had an interesting thought recently. That thought was, do I want to be like Jesus Christ? What makes me want to be like Jesus Christ? Why do I want to be like Jesus Christ? What about Him makes me want to be like Him? Do others want to be like Christ? Do I know the attributes of Christ well enough to be confident I want to be like Him? Do others know Him well enough to want to be like Him?

    We hear so often in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that we’re working to become like Jesus Christ. We have a children’s song (near and dear to my own heart) titled, “I’m trying to be like Jesus.”

    Why?

    When we say we want to eventually be like Him, do we know what He was/is like?

    Recently I was playing pickup basketball at a church. It was relatively competitive. Those who know me well know how seriously I take basketball.  There was one girl playing that wasn’t super competitive. She’d come the past few weeks and she somewhat lowered the level of basketball that was able to be played. 

    We were all, of course, nice to her. But some showed their frurstration in the level of basketball, I might have been one of them.

    This last time I played I decided I was going to have this girl on my team. I decided, not only was I going to have this person on my team but I was going to pass to her, encourage her, cheer for her, and we were still going to win.  The level of competition was such that, despite it being “somewhat” competitive, those were all realistic goals.

    After the first game this girl came up to me and meekly asked if there was anything she could do better. So I gave her some pointers –

    “If you’re open, shoot. Don’t pass back to us if you’re open,” and some general guidance on defense. She showed marked improvement and I was happy to have her on my team, especially over some athletic guys who could be ball hogs.

    Every couple games she would ask me if there was anything she could do better and I continued to give some advice.

    At the end of playing I told her how awesome she did that day and her response so, so warmed my heart, “thanks to you.” Such a simple statement.

    And in that moment I remembered something. It didn’t matter if we won. It didn’t matter that the game was competitive. Nothing mattered. Except that this person had a fun time, felt welcome, felt loved. Being compassionate and caring was vastly more important than any game of basketball, despite how competive and riled up I can get during competition. I needed that reminder.

    I come home from basketball often and feel good, happy. I usually tell Beth stories about what happened. It’s usually about some play I made, how the games went, how many we won and lost.

    After that night I came home and told her, “sometimes I need to be reminded how good it feels to be kind to someone.”

    Why do I want to be like Jesus? What is it about Him that makes me want to be like Him? What are His traits that I aspire towards?

    The answer is in that story.

    I felt better after that session of pickup basketball than I had in the last 10 combined. Her gratitude, and seeing someone feel welcome and have fun, was worth 10 game winning shots.

    Jesus Christ is all the love. All the caring. All the compassion. All the service.  All the joy.

    Why do I want to be like Jesus? Because loving others provides the greatest reward I have personally felt in this life. Nothing in this life compares to feelings of love, and the feeling of doing something right.

    This is in no way meant as a pat on my back for being a nice person. Jesus Christ is always a nice person, and He only asks that we be like Him in return. How interesting is that, consider it for a moment. Jesus Christ is perfectly selfless and loving to the point that all that He asks of us in return is to be perfectly selfless and loving to others. Is there any purer love than that? He makes this request not for Himself, but for us, all of us. He wants us to be like Him so that others can be happy. All He gets out of it is our joy.

    How amazing is that.

    I hope I can more and more every day, “try to be like Jesus.”

  • RIP Coach

    RIP Coach

    I often think about the people God put around me in my life.  I’m obviously not the center of the universe, but sometimes, when I think about all those who have looked out for me throughout my life, it’s hard not to feel like that.

    There’s an individual in my life who played a critical role at two of the most important junctures in my life.  He was a dear friend, coach, mentor. 

    What’s so funny is, Coach Gonzalez never actually coached me.  Jessie Gonzalez was the athletic director at my high school.  Coach Gonzalez got close with most of the teams he looked over as athletic director.  The basketball program was no exception.

    My senior year at Cimarron we went to a tournament in Hawaii.  Coach Gonzalez came on that trip to “watch” us, or chaperone, I guess.  On that trip, Coach Gonzalez went from Coach Gonzalez to Gonzo, or just Coach.

    Gonzo looked out for me throughout high school.  Many don’t know this now, but I needed a lot of looking out for at that time. 

    I had bonded with Gonzo a bit on the Hawaii trip, but he wasn’t someone I would have considered a close friend or confidant.  That is until I really, really needed someone to talk to.  Then he was there, at the most difficult time of my life.  Somehow, for reasons I won’t understand until I see the bigger picture, Gonzo was the phone call I made.  He helped me through some very difficult things. I look forward to speaking to God, and Him showing me how critical that moment was.  I look forward to seeing why Gonzo was there at that precise moment, and why God made sure I reached out to him.

    We stayed in loose contact as I left high school.

    Gonzo had a few of us he took under his wing and looked out for.  I felt truly blessed to be “one of his boys.”

    After high school, this fascinating thing happened where the roles Gonzo played in my life morphed.  He went from 100% mentor to 50% mentor and 50% friend.  Gonzo was only 11 years older than me.  Not that many years, in the grand scheme. 

    In 2015 I went to a birthday party in Houston.  It was a relative of Gonzo’s and made no sense for me to be there.  It was really just an excuse to go to Houston and see Gonzo, who had moved to Michigan, and I hadn’t seen since high school.  That trip is so memorable.  I’m not going to elaborate any further.  During that trip Gonzo stayed a 50% mentor but also became one of my closest friends, a lifelong friend.

    The second, extremely critical cross roads in my life-  I was trying to return to church.  Who did I turn to?  Who talked me through a year plus of difficulty, repentance, trials, temptations, questions, doubts, uncertainties?  Countless hours were spent on the phone with him.  He was going to see me through.

    Gonzo isn’t a member of my church.  He’s a member of a grander organization.  He’s a brother and an angel that was here to look over me and guide me.  I’m not sure I’d be an active member of my church today without his guidance. That was the power of Coach.  He didn’t need to be a member of my church to help me with something so important.  He only needed to listen, love me, help me.

    Another moment I’ll never forget, I was only a couple months into trying to return into activity in the Church.  Satan was hard at work in those first months.  I could go on and on about what he put before me during those months.

    One of those temptations was a staycation at my favorite place at the time, Talking Sticks Resort.  I was still playing poker.  During this weekend that TSR gave me a free suite to stay in, there was a huge summer pool party.  My room overlooked the pool, of course.

    Imagine me for a moment.  Just a couple months into not drinking.  Here I am at Talking Stick Resort, in a super nice room, overlooking a pool filled with beautiful people and all my temptations.  I was literally in the great and spacious building.  I had alcohol in the fridge.  For those who don’t know this feeling, I can’t describe the pull.  I don’t have words to describe the need to drink alcohol, go to the pool, let myself fully embrace this staycation.

    I had worked so hard.  I was going to church and making good choices.  Surely, I could give myself this one weekend, right?

    I was going to drink and join this party.  There was really no doubt.  As much as I told myself I wouldn’t, I was going to. 

    I can’t remember if I called him.  There’s a chance he called me.  I talked to Coach Gonzo.  In true Jessie fashion, he didn’t tell me not to drink.  He talked me through it.  He told me it was a choice I had to make.  He reminded me how hard I’d worked to return to church and stop drinking.

    Then, almost nonchalantly, as if an afterthought, Coach said the most critical thing.  He said, “You can drink and get wild and crazy, but man, after not drinking for as long as you’ve gone, tomorrow is going to suck.  That hangover is going to be bad.  Hangover aside, how are you going to feel about yourself in the morning?”

    That was all I needed to hear.

    For those wondering, I did join the pool party.  I hung out, walked around.  I didn’t embrace the party.  I owe Jessie, Coach, Gonzo for that.  I may owe him my now 5 years of sobriety.

    Jessie Gonzalez left this stage of his coaching journey 6/8/21.  He had some new people to coach and mentor, and he couldn’t do that here.  I will miss him dearly.  I already wonder who I will turn to when I need to be guided through the next trial.  Part of me thinks he could move on because he already got me to the point where I can take care of myself.  Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need him anymore. The greater and more comforting truth is that you always need a mentor and friend like Gonzo, and he’s still there for me, more than ever now.

    He was light.  And he was joy.  Nobody brought together a room like him. 

    He protected me from harm while here, both physically and spiritually.

    I thought of something interesting last night.  It hit me that Gonzo likely, just recently, had his life review.  It brought me so much joy to think of him getting to see all the good he had done.  I considered him getting to see every moment he impacted me and how big a role he played in my life.  I thought about the net of goodness and light he spread while he was here.

    It brought a smile to my face to know that he got to see his Savior.  He was embraced, and loved, and free from the difficulties of this world.

    He can coach in purity now, for, a purer heart there never was. 

    I miss him a lot now. Though I can’t hear his voice or see his face, he’ll continue to be with me, coaching from above. I look forward to the reunion.

    I love you Jessie, Coach, Gonzo, and I thank you for all you did for me.