“The Green Light”
Confidence Means Everything
“You have the green light,” he said, and that changed everything. I wasn’t on the road, in a car, or moving at all. I was sitting on the side of a basketball court watching my JV team from the bench. But “the green light,” that meant they needed me.
I remember tryouts that year, thinking that all my friends had made JV and left me behind for another year of JVB. I was slower, weaker, and hadn’t shot well. I felt much less than them. I remember going to sleep the night before the teams were announced thinking it was the last night I would play with all of them for a year. I was nervous, but not the good kind of nervous, the kind of nervous where dread heavily outweighs excitement.
I remember waking up the next morning and not going to the gym to check the team sheet. Instead, I went straight to class. I was scared to see my friends, scared to face reality. From a distance, I could tell they were excited.
“You made it!”
I was confused and excited, not even relieved because my expectations had been zero. I checked the gym door in between classes to make sure they hadn’t wrongly assumed my success. Scanning the list I saw it, “Sean Robinson.” It was real. My confusion slowly morphed into confidence.
At lunch, I didn’t bring it up to my dad (the Varsity Coach), in hopes he would beat me to the conversation. There was a small part of me that thought he had spoken up for me in the team selection process, something that I hope he didn’t do. He looked at me.
“You’re going to have to work hard, really hard.”
This isn’t an exact quote but I remember feeling concern more than congratulations from the conversation. Looking back I know he was just trying to protect me, but at the time it felt like he was scared. My confidence walked itself right back to confusion.
Why had I made it? Was I good enough? Did the JV coach feel indebted to my dad? Was it just my name? Would I embarrass myself?
Practices started and I didn’t feel out of place. I became comfortable but far from confident. The other guys were still faster, stronger and my shooting legs were only slowly coming back. I knew what to do but wasn’t always sure I could do it, or do it fast enough. My coach had patience but pushed me to improve, I knew I needed to.
Once games started I realized scoring on other teams was much easier than in practice where I was playing against the starters. I liked my role, coming off the bench buoying the second unit on offense and praying I wouldn’t screw up on the other end. Buckets started falling and I soon felt comfortable again. Then it happened, he crouched down beside me.
“You have the green light.”
The instruction was clear, he wanted me to shoot. I remember walking back onto the court. The point guard brought the ball up, I found a spot I liked on the wing. The ball found me, the defender didn’t. I made sure my feet were behind the line. I pulled up. 3. The scoreboard lights flickered to find the correct score. They were red, but to me, every light was green.
