My Passion

I remember feeling lost for the first time in my life. Passionate people like myself need to

be occupied; they need hobbies and purposes in order to thrive and maintain their sanity. After

my soccer career fell through in the beginning of tenth grade, I was left without a purpose and

without a passion.

I was nervous because I felt so much uncertainty surrounding how I would find myself

and find my peace. The soccer field had been my escape from reality for the past seven years of

my life; the feeling of making a game-winning save, diving around on the turf, and celebrating

with my teammates after a big win rivalled no other. I had plans to play Division One soccer in

college, and the major college recruiting era was about to begin with the beginning of my

sophomore year.

My club soccer career came to an abrupt halt in October of 2017 due to a sudden rule

change that meant my birth year couldn’t play with the birth year of most of my teammates, and

I never found another team that felt exactly right. With the high school soccer season over too, I

had no idea what I was doing. My soccer passion was starting to fade and it felt like I was

drowning; treading on what was left of my love for soccer. I tried so hard to not let that love slip

away, but it inevitably was going to without any teams to play with. I was going to have to play

basketball, though, because I always participated in school sports and it just so happened to be

the next season. But, I still had this underlying fear that I was going to have to live without a

passion.

On a random school night in November of 2017, I was sitting with my family in the

kitchen. The four of us: my twin sister Cayla, Mom, Dad, and I had been finishing up eating

dinner. It was Turkey Tacos as it was every Tuesday in our household. My two dogs, Marley and
Penny, were waiting under the table in case any spare food would fall on the floor. Our topic of

discussion was my upcoming high school basketball season. As a tenth grader, my default

landing spot was on JV, but my parents believed that I would be getting a choice of whether I

wanted to play with the JV or Varsity teams. I was under that impression too, as I had been one

of the top guards on the JV team and it was rumored that the Varsity team needed more guards.

We spent that entire dinner arguing, as I was dead-set on choosing JV. I was stubborn, as I still

am, and my parents were trying to get me to leave my comfort zone, something I still struggle

with today. On JV, I would have been comfortable: I knew the coach, my teammates, the

environment, and the level of competition. On varsity, I would have had to leave my comfort

zone. My parents and I went back and forth and I refused to say I would pick Varsity. To me,

that felt like being vulnerable; putting myself in a spot where I didn’t know if I would excel.

Stepping out of my comfort zone, putting myself out there, and taking a risk were all things I did

not want to do, but my parents knew that it would only help me.

So, I got ready for my first basketball practice in tenth grade. It was a combined tryout

for the first three days, and after the second, Coach Adam and Coach Roche would start to

discuss potential landing spots for the girls who could be on either JV or Varsity. When I walked

into that gym at 4:15, I was overcome with nerves and uncertainty. The intense humidity of the

gym and smell of the sweaty boys who had just had tryouts before us overcame my senses. I was

not familiar with the dusty court, bright red bleachers, and banner-covered walls. “This isn’t

even my sport,” I was thinking constantly; I wanted to be on a soccer field instead. I laughed and

joked around with my former JV teammates, but on the inside all I felt was anxiety. I knew that I

would get this choice and it simply felt like a lose-lose scenario. If I picked JV, I was letting my

parents down. If I picked Varsity, I would be surrounded by a bunch of highly-skilled girls who I
didn’t know and who had all been together the year prior. I was dreading having to make that

decision. In fact, in my head, I did not know what I would say when asked, I just kept telling

myself I would wing it.

I remember the second combined tryout wrapping up and everyone going to their bags

and water bottles that were laying against the white walls. I sat down next to a couple friends to

take off my basketball sneakers while my eyes wandered the gym to find the Varsity coaches. I

knew this was the time they would start pulling aside the girls they wanted to talk to and give

choices to, and I was not ready to give an answer. My friend Kaylee got called, then Annabelle,

then Tamara, then Jess, then Lex, then Jessie. My heart was pounding. I knew I would be up in

the matter of minutes, but I was never called.

I went home that day feeling confused and relieved. I never had to make a decision, but

did that mean one was made for me? My practice time for the next day was the same: 4:15, so I

knew when I had to be back for what I assumed was JV practice. I was a tenth grader who had

little to no comprehensive understanding of the sport of basketball, so the chances that I would

be placed on Varsity were slim to none. Don’t get me wrong, I was not at all disappointed that I

was going to be placed on JV. I was just happy and relieved that this decision was made for me

and I did not have to disappoint my parents by choosing to remain in my comfort zone. I was just

surprised since every other tenth grader on varsity that I have known got the choice of whether

they wanted to be with JV or Varsity.

On that following day, I walked into the gym and was surprised when I saw all the

Varsity girls sitting against the wall putting their basketball gear on. I assumed I had shown up at

the wrong time so I went over to Varsity-member Kaylee and said, “oh shit, when is JV

practicing?” She looked at me, all confused and said, “Ava, you’re on Varsity.” I was shocked,
and replied “no, because I was never given the choice. That doesn’t make any sense.” So Kaylee

says back to me, “Well that’s because Adam isn’t giving you one.”

At that moment, I was angry; an almost-in-tears type of anger. I thought that I deserved a

choice. Looking back, my anger was hilariously ironic, because I was all of a sudden wishing for

a choice that I had tried to avoid at all costs. Now, I was going to have to play a sport I am not

good at with a bunch of girls who I don’t know that are all better than me. “This is going to be

such a nightmare” I thought to myself. I contemplated asking Adam if I could be on JV, but that

thought didn’t last long as I did not want to be known as a quitter. My biggest fear in life is

feeling undriven; feeling purposeless, rudderless, passionless, all of the above. I am terrified of

feeling like I am doing something just to do it; there needs to be purpose in order for any action

in my life to have meaning. I was feeling that terrifying, passionless emotion for the first time

after my soccer career ended and I did not want to continue digging myself into that hole.

Quitting is just purposely not doing something altogether, and I am simply not hardwired to quit.

It did not take long for me to enjoy the Varsity basketball practices. The first few were

dreadful considering I did not know anyone and felt like I wasn’t performing well enough. As I

got in the groove of things and I got to know the girls, being on the Varsity team became the

highlight of my days. I never played in games unless it was a 20 point blowout, but watching my

senior teammates and even getting in those few minutes started to light a fire inside of me. Now,

it is crazy to think that I was once passionate about soccer, because if that was passion, take that

passion and multiply it by one hundred. Then, it could be somewhat easier to understand the

newfound love and inspiration I had for this new game of basketball. Everytime I entered that

gym, it felt like I was entering my safe haven. What once felt like an unfamiliar space filled with

dusty air now felt like something abnormally simple: home. Adam could yell at me, I could miss
a dozen shots in a row, I could run so many sprints that I felt like I was on the verge of death: it

didn’t matter. That court was where I was meant to be.

The team made it to the 2018 Suffolk County Championship game. We were playing our

rival Commack at Farmingdale State College, and I had an unhealthy amount of confidence that

we were going to win. We scouted their players, plays, presses, and knew anything that gave us a

competitive edge. Somehow, after the tip-off, everything went south. We lost by around 25

points and oddly enough, it was just as heartbreaking as losing on a buzzer-beater half court

heave. I have watched the tape of every game in my career multiple times. I like to watch and

look for plays and little details that could make me a better player, and I even watched if I never

got to play in the game. That Commack game is the one game that I refuse to watch.

Since the game was a blowout, me and a few of the other bench players got subbed in for

the three seniors whose last game it was. I don’t quite remember what I did on the court for those

last 45 seconds. Everything was sort of a blur of actions and emotions, and I was feeling an

overwhelming sense of sadness, shock, and denial. The final horn sounded and I briefly

remember doing the handshake line, again feeling overwhelmed. I returned to our team bench,

hearing the Commack cheers and celebrations in the background, and I immediately fell to one

knee. To my own surprise, I was crying. Not just a couple soft tears, though, like hysterically

balling my eyes out. Like the famous Cinderella lyric states, “you don’t know what you got ‘til

it’s gone.” A few of my teammates came over to pick me up and attempt to make me feel better.

Their attempts failed, and for the next 20 minutes I legitimately did not stop crying. On my way

to the locker room, I remember two of my teammates standing alongside of me, keeping me

upright like I had a sprained ankle to deal with. I’ve come to realize now that those tears were
not just tears of sadness as they purely felt like in the moment, but also ones of relief, knowing

that I no longer had to fear being passionless.

In the locker room everyone hugged each other over what felt like a hundred times. We

were all heartbroken for the seniors, who had sacrificed just about everything possible for the

team. In that sense, I was lucky, as I would have two more full seasons to try and replicate their

success. As we all sat down around the locker room to soak it in, Coaches Adam and Roche

walked in to talk to us. The door shut behind them and we sat in silence for about three minutes

before Adam started to speak. I scanned the locker room; it was dark green, and some of us were

sitting on short black stools and others sat on the floor. It was during those three minutes, which

felt like an eternity, where I made a decision. It was me making up for never having to make a

decision on the second day of tryouts. I had decided that I was going to give everything I had to

becoming the best basketball player I could. I had a sense of purpose, finally, and it felt so much

more powerful than all my years of soccer combined.

When Adam spoke, he thanked the seniors for giving up so much and setting such a high

bar for the rest of us. Then, Adam gave the rest of use a chance to speak. I didn’t pass up on that

chance, even though I was not a fan of giving speeches. I just felt so strongly inclined to let

everyone know how inspired I was. How the close-knit bond that I made with every single girl

on that team meant something to me, and it meant that I would try and pay it back, somehow,

someway.

So, fast forward two and a half years. I am a senior in high school and happier than ever.

I spent the last two and half years of my life attempting to live up to that decision I made in the

Farmingdale State College locker room. I was at the gym probably everyday humanly possible

trying to become the best player I could. I ditched Friday night plans and made any other
maneuver needed to be in that gym. I attempted to perfect everything that was in my control:

shooting, dribbling, fitness, nutrition, agility, and just about everything else. Adam said at one of

our postseason meetings that he had always offered to his players that they could just text him

anyday to train and he would meet them there. He said that he never had anyone take him up so

literally on that offer like I did.

November 12th, 2019 was coming up. It was a day that had been circled on my calendar

for months as it marked the first day of my senior season. Two days prior, I circled November

12th again. This time, for a less joyful reason as my dog Marley was being put down at one

o’clock. With basketball at 4:15, I didn't know how I would feel about playing. We put Marley

down and it was one of, if not, the most painful experience I have ever had to go through. I

would not wish that type of heartbreak on my worst enemy. I still decided that I was going to go

to basketball. After all, it was my safe haven, and this day was supposed to be the one I was

looking forward to forever.

I walked into the main entrance of my high school. I looked around and saw the

familiarity of my high school lobby: the “THUNDERBIRDS” spelt out on the wall, four pots of

green plants, the crusty wooden doors, and the dramatically powerful ceiling lights. I smelt the

humidity and felt the emptiness inside the building: no one was there for school. I had a

backpack on; it’s filled with sneakers, water bottles, and KT Tape. I was wearing my favorite

black Nike basketball shorts, and my favorite blue University of Pittsburgh T-shirt, along with

Nike crew socks and sandals. I heard the pound of basketballs on the floor and felt a rush of

adrenaline as I walked closer to the wooden gym doors. My heart hurt, but my body was ready to

go. This was everything I had been working for. As practice got going, I felt a sense of healing. I

remember feeling a calming sense of belonging through the heartbreak and chaos.
 The court became my fantasyland, paradise, safe haven, ecstasy, heaven, nirvana, bliss,

you name it. All in all, the court became my happiness. And because I have come to be one with

the sport of basketball, any rectangle floor that has the specific lines on it as to be seen as a

basketball court, that court is my happiness too.

Everyday I think about what my life would have been like had I been offered the choice

of JV or Varsity. I honestly don’t know what I would have said or done, all I do know is that I

am eternally thankful that Adam made the choice for me. I know I am better for it.