Man, I remember waking up feeling stiff as a board last Tuesday. My shot was way off during the neighborhood game Monday night. Missed six open looks in a row – embarrassing stuff. Figured it was time to actually fix my weak spots instead of just complaining. Grabbed my beat-up notebook and wrote “DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR GARBAGE GAME” in all caps. Couldn’t find my good basketball so I dusted off this half-deflated one from 2019. Better than nothing.
The Frustration Phase
Headed to the cracked concrete court near the gas station where nobody judges. Started with dribbling drills but my left hand might as well’ve been a flipper. Ball kept flying into chain links like it hated me. After twenty minutes? Only managed three straight crossovers without losing it. Whole thing felt pointless but I kept grinding because my buddy Carlos texted “game this Friday” and I ain’t showing up trash.
Lightbulb Moments
Couple things clicked once I stopped overthinking:
- Stance matters stupidly much – bent my knees way lower than felt natural and suddenly my defense didn’t suck. Could actually mirror movements instead of watching ankles get broken.
- Forcing weak hand builds muscle memory stupid fast – did everything left-handed for 15 brutal minutes. Water breaks included pathetic whining.
- Elevation is overrated – focused on wrist flicks alone from 5 feet out. Swished 12 in a row eventually while sitting my tired butt on the pavement. Felt like cheating.
The Ugly Middle Part
Wednesday was humid hell. Practiced free throws while drenched like I’d jumped in a pool. Missed ten straight at one point – almost launched the ball over the fence. Saw some middle schoolers watching so pretended my frustration was a comedy show. “Enjoy the circus, kids!” Got pity applause. On Thursday my legs felt like mashed potatoes so I just laid under the hoop visualizing shots. Mental reps count when your body quits.
Proof It Works (Sorta)
Friday night game arrived. Carlos tried blowing past me immediately – planted my feet and actually stayed in front of him! He looked shook. Bricked my first shot obviously (old habits) but remembered the wrist flick thing. Next three mid-range attempts? Nothing but nylon. Still lost by 15 cause our team’s chemistry’s worse than my left hand dribbles. But damn if those small improvements didn’t feel like winning the lottery. Lesson learned: stop skipping fundamentals even when they feel boring.
