Someone to be admired (19)

When I was younger, I was a hard-core basketball player.  I lived basketball, I breathed basketball.  It was my life.  Every day after school, I went to practice, and almost every weekend there was a tournament to play in.  During the summer, I went to basketball camps.  It wasn't just a hobby, it was a passion.  I was a part of a traveling team in the state.  An elite team that you didn't try out for, but rather that you were recruited for.  It was an honor to be a part of the team.  Not because of the accomplishment that it was, but rather because it was the significant thing that shaped who I grew up to be.  That had a large part to do with my coach.  I started playing for the team when I was in fifth grade.  There were only a few of us fifth graders. The league went all the way up to eighth grade.  So from the fifth grade, all the way to the eighth grade, I was fortunate enough to have the same coach.  I know that many people can write essays upon essays about why they admire their coaches, but in my case, the situation is different.  The thing about my coach was that he was almost entirely paralyzed.  He had a little bit of movement in his arms, but most certainly wheel-chair bound.  Now, coaching basketball is an incredibly difficult feat for someone who does not have the luxury of conventional mobility.  However, there wasn't another coach in the world that I would have rather had. 
Many of the coaches that we went up against taught their players that the key to happiness was winning and that you must win at ANY cost necessary.  My coach took the road less traveled.  He taught us that basketball wasn't the only way to happiness, in fact, he taught us that to truly appreciate the game, we had to have our priorities straight.  He told us every day that he didn't care if we won the first place trophy.  He cared that we won the sportsmanship trophy.  He had high expectations of how we worked as a team.  Rather than scoring the point, we had to make sure that everyone from our team on the floor was passed the ball first.  We weren't allowed to play dirty.  It wasn't tolorated.  But it was mandetory that win or lose, we talked with the other team at the end of the game, and found something to compliment them on.  On my basketball team, we had a mandetory hour-long study hall before practice.  We were expected to be on time and we weren't able to let our grades drop if we were hoping to start in the next game. 
Now, you might be wondering if we were a team worth mentioning.  We won tournaments, we even placed at state.  I cherish those memories, but even more so, I cherish the life lessons that I learned from my coach.  I cherish the fact that at the end of every practice, our entire team sat in a semi circle around our coach's wheel chair and talked about our highs and lows of the day.  I admire my coach for taking the road less traveled, and I hope that when it is my turn to pass along wisdom, I remember the core truths that he lived by.  That everyone can cross the finish line.  Some people are first, and they might seem important, but it is the ones who help their fellow runner across the line that are remembered. 
WC- 598