Drips Make Puddles

The door creaked open and I awoke perplexed. Where was I and who was entering the room? A clash of thunder dominated my moment and I sat up aggressively to see an object walking towards me in the dark. The metal window blinds restrained the sunlight and I am faced with a silhouette of the intruder. I take a deep breath, pause and realize what is going on. My teammate was home and I was sleeping in his bed, trying to avoid another night on the couch. The scare was over but the harsh reality set in as I dragged my pillows and sheets upstairs to the couch to resume my night time nap. So, yes… I still live on the couch. And what a glorious couch it is. I’m not even going to write about my frustration of not having housing yet because my language wouldn’t be appropriate for my mother to read… J

I apologize to all my loyal readers (thank you two! Woohoo!) for taking so long to write since my last post. It’s been an odd few weeks to say the least. Allow me to summarize…

First off, we are 5-0 (4-0 in league play). I am averaging an astounding and quite impressive 2.3pts 1.8asst 2rebs in 13.3 minutes of play. I am yet to take a 3 point shot and I’ve dribbled the ball exactly 13 times in 5 games. Let’s just say my role is undefined at the moment and I have become the definition of a “role” player. This has been a very unique and frustrating start to the season for me.

10 minutes before our last home game I was brought into the meeting room by my two coaches. This seems to be a theme in Israel of doing terribly timed spontaneous meetings to bear news (Color Copy & Big Smile). I sat down and anxiously listened. I was told how wonderful of a person I am and how great I could be in this league because of my size and skill set. I could sense the intended ego buildup and wait for the obvious letdown. It came immediately and I was put in a new and baffling situation. In short, I was told that I had a negative attitude. The language wasn’t perfect but I felt that was the gist of it. I was shocked and confused. I continued to listen but basically blanked out. An internal dialog was brewing and I was trying to figure out what had made them think this. Did I actually develop a bad attitude? I've never been told this before. My ego jumped to the conclusion that they were wrong and I was misunderstood. I smiled and nodded and said I will work on it. I started the game, played 5 minutes and was benched until the last 3 minutes of the game. I was so infuriated when I got back in the game that I shot every time I touched the ball. Luckily, shots went in and I had 7pts in those 3 minutes.

I went home that night depressed and unmotivated. I had two choices; feel bad for myself or fix the problem. I put on my coaching hat to look at this situation from their point of view. What was I doing that was bothering them? Like any situation when you have to be truly honest with yourself, it was very uncomfortable. How had I become “that guy”? I pinpointed a specific moment that may have formed their opinion. In our second game of the season, I was taken out of the game after about 4 minutes. I walked off the court, sat on the bench, and put on the infamous “why did you take me out” face. I flashed back to my coaching years and realized exact instances where a player would act this way. I remember the feeling of not wanting to reward them for their attitude. I'm blessed to have experienced it from both sides so I could recognize it.

Two days later, the head coach and I talked again… this time it was more of a conversation. He wanted to get to know me better and hear my thoughts. I was actually very impressed. I told him I was embarrassed that he thought I had a bad attitude. He smiled and said “I don’t think you have a bad attitude, I just think you are competitive and want to play more… you haven't played for 5 years and I want to ease you back into playing shape.” I started laughing and said “WHAT?!” I explained how upset I had been and the mental battle I had experienced. After 15 minutes of intense talking, we were finally on the same page. The next game I played 25 minutes, had 7pts 4 rebs 4assts and finally felt like part of the team. After the game, the coach hugged me and said boldly “That’s exactly what we need from you”. It was actually more of a "That exact What Need" It was a good feeling and hopefully we can grow from here.

During the game, I had a funny encounter with one of the other team’s Americans. To start the game, I was set to guard their 35-year-old point guard, who, according to the scouting report, was their best player. I held him to 5 points in the first half while the former Cincinnati standout Rashad Bishop had 18pts. To start the second half, I was assigned to shut him down. Bishop is 6’6’’ 225lbs and a stud athlete. I knew I would have trouble guarding him one on one, especially because he was on fire in the first half. I had to outsmart and outthink him quickly. I walked up to him before the ball was inbounded and said “Hey man, where you from?” he looked at me funny and replied “New Jersey” BAM... I was in. “Oh yeah… I’m from Philly… what part of Jersey are you from?” … “Newark” … “Oh sweet… I was just there. Do you like Mayor Cory Booker?” … “Yeah, he is cool.” With every question I asked, he lightened up. He went from the basketball equivalent of Deebo to the dinosaur equivalent of Barney. I’ve never seen anything like it. Every time he touched the ball, he would square up, jab step, and pass it away or take a bad shot. My friendly tactics had confused him and his aggressiveness disappeared. I continued to pester him with small talk… everything from his living situation, to the Gaza conflict… I even asked him what he thought of the Kardashian divorce, which was fresh in the news. I had masterminded the greatest defensive chatter in my basketball career. We won by 19pts. After the game he approached me for a manshake “bro hug”. We clasped, rotated and shook hands. He leaned in for the “one arm around” back pat which solidifies the “bro hug”. I wanted no part and I leaned back and created an awkward moment for him. All my small talk had convinced him we were buddy, buddy… nope…just trying to win a game, sir… strategic game time tactics only. Zach 1 – Rashad 0. Game Blouses... J

To end, I need to get philosophical and share an odd and kind of gross story. Bear with me here… it has a happy ending…

I slowly scurried threw the crowded nightclub, anxiously wandering to the nearest bathroom. It was 2:30 am and I needed to pee. After pushing my way through the seemingly endless crowd of 18-20-year-old Israeli dancing machines... I approached the men's room with a sigh of relief. As a peeked into the closet-sized little boy’s room, I noticed a shimmering glaze on the old blue cracked tile floor. It was filthy and wet and had sneaker stains pestering its every inch. I thought to myself "what discussing animals allowed this to happen.” During the approach, I held my pant legs high in order to avoid anything from touching my jeans. I tip-toed my way into urinal #3 and looked straight ahead (man law #67 - chapter 4). At that moment, I witnessed one of the most subtle yet profound things I have ever witnessed. A single drop of urine ricocheted off the porcelain and fell to the floor (sorry for the detail)… I had become one of the animals. I was now responsible for funding part of this disgusting puddle. It was a moment of clarity that I will forever remember. Drips Make Puddles.

I shrugged it off, washed my hands, and hopscotched my way back to the dance floor. As I “Douggied” with my fellow Dougiers, I couldn’t get this thought out of my mind. My relatively irrelevant event had affected a larger result. I immediately imagined my life situation and how the little things had built this bigger picture. All of these small “droplets” and decisions have ultimately built up the “puddle” that is my life. Luckily, my existence isn’t a disgusting, pee laden blue tile floor. In my mind, I am more of a private swim club. I am exactly where I need to be… still not sure why… but cosmically I believe I’m meant to be here.