Craig Daily Press

I was five years old in an oversized yellow crew neck T-shirt with the number three printed on the back in a font that was as tall as I was. On the front, tears stained words that read Craig’s Park and Recreation basketball.

The thought of stepping on the basketball floor as a vulnerable, intimidated five-year-old made it easy to refuse and made tears easy to come.

I cried because I didn’t want to leave my parents behind. I cried because I didn’t know how to play basketball.

This was until my father placed one bite-size Tootsie Roll on the half-court line of that basketball court. Did I leave my doll-playing days behind for a sweaty sport and give into this bribe? Or cry until my parents gave up on me?

Like a sweet Tootsie Roll, sports have become my sweetest addiction ever since.

I chose to give in to my sweet tooth, leave the tears on the sidelines and become a basketball player, one of my father’s biggest dreams for me and a dream for myself I had yet to discover.

My basketball-playing career started small.

Shooting on an 8-foot hoop with two hands.

Short spurts of dribbling and various scraps and bruises.

Countless tears on the court because a girl I thought was my friend didn’t pass me the ball, or losing the game and crying about the fact that I didn’t get a purple popsicle.

Yesterday, I returned to the younger years of my basketball-playing days when I went to play at the hoops behind my house.

As my one-on-one opponent and I passed the ball back and forth to each other as a warm-up, a small five-year-old in an oversized orange T-shirt said, “Hey can we ball with you?”

“Of course you can, come on!” we answered, waving them over to the courts.

A group of three kids escaped the watch of their parents and could not wait to get their hands on the basketball. Well, as they put it, a chance to play street ball.

It didn’t matter if it took two hours to play a game to five or if we juggled between each basket because they forgot which one belonged to which team.

That two hours was their chance to dream. To dream of being the next Kobe Bryant, a college basketball player or dunking the ball someday.

I couldn’t help but smile. These kids were fearless on the court, both defensively and offensively, both mentally and physically, and they didn’t need a Tootsie Roll, either. They were born with this sweet addiction.

I questioned if they would leave their fearlessness on the court, a phrase all coaches tell their players to prevent overconfidence or anger.

“Leave it on the court.”

But, I hoped that they would take this fearless attitude with them as they returned to their family picnic.

And take this fearless attitude with them through grade school, high school and college. I hoped they would take this drive learned on the court and bring it with them everyday, similar to the way I have.

The same competitive mentality has been instilled in me ever since I ate that Tootsie Roll on the half-court line.

Now, at the age of 19, I have played sports for 14 years of my life. I understand what it is like to make the winning basket in double overtime.

I have tasted a championship but also fallen short of those expectations.

I have been the star player. I have been the bench warmer. I have missed a free throw that would have won the game and even made two to win in overtime.

I understand not only the physical pain of a season ending injury but the emotional distress.

I understand sports, and I understand athletes.

It is the goal.

It is the passion and hunger to reach this goal that keeps me addicted to sports and keeps me still reaching.

And it’s my sweetest addiction.