The Journey Forward

Michael,

“We should write a book about this.”

It is hard to quantify how many times we said this to each other as your basketball journey unfolded.  Finally, in December of your senior year of high school, when my fingers started pounding the keyboard, something magical happened.  They could not stop.  I wrote a chapter the first week, two chapters the second week, then three and then four.  The stories, lessons and messages poured out of my memory and onto the pages of this memoire.  The final thirty-five chapters were written in thirty-five days.

I always said to you that we are defined not by our behavior when things are great, when we won the game or when we made the team.  We are defined by who we are and how we act when we are faced with our greatest challenges, when losing falls squarely on our shoulders and when we are rejected.  In between the covers of this book, in between the laughs, you and anyone who reads about our time together, will understand how the Legacy of Ball shapes and defines each of us.

Enjoy.  I love you!

Love Dad

Transcript

The Journey Forward

I remember it like the start of something between a dream and a nightmare. My son, just north of a toddler, was standing in front of a Little Tykes basketball hoop and awkwardly tossing a ball into it. Holy shit! It’s happening! This is my hope; it always was my hope. My son was going to follow in my footsteps and grow into a basketball player. A star. I was better than my father, and he was going to be better than me. This was simple. This was his destiny. He was going to love hoops. At least if he wanted to be my friend, he was going to love hoops. That was my classic dad joke. It was my line, and I was sticking to it. 

Fast forward about six or so years, and Michael was in fifth grade. I knew about the dads who pushed their children, and I had, up to that point, been avoiding that pitfall. I figured that the good fathers did not push too hard, so I had not pushed him to play basketball. He had played for park and rec hoops. In fact, I was his coach in third and fourth grades. His love for the game was going to be natural. He was tall and was going to be taller than me. He was a big kid, which was going to bode well for him in the paint. It was time for him to try out for travel basketball. Everyone does it. It was the natural next step for him along his path toward greatness on the court. I knew he was a natural and would simply get better over time. With a little work, Michael was going to dominate. I couldn’t wait to be that proud dad in the stands. “Yep, that’s Michael. He loves the game. That is why he is so good.”

In Highridge, Ohio, there were two travel teams. Each team chose eleven players. Michael simply needed to be in the top twenty-two to play hoops with the best players in his grade. He was definitely going to make the YMCA team. But would he be able to sneak onto the Police Athletic League (PAL) team? Sure, I knew there were politics. But I was confident. 

Nothing prepared me for the moment when he didn’t make a team. Neither team wanted him. Here he was, a tall, young boy who liked basketball but got cut from travel hoops. I wanted to take the pressure off Michael and me. The fastest way to that end was to quit coaching him. I did not want to be that dad who coached his son for the purpose of getting him more playing time, or the appearance of more playing time. I wanted the game to come to him naturally. If Michael wanted me to become part of his journey, it would become clear at some point along the way. We signed Michael up for rec hoops in both Highridge and Longview. We didn’t want to squash his interest in the game. The harsh reality just hit me. Michael was not really good at basketball. It was time to reset my expectations. My dream for him (and maybe for me) was over.

Or was it?

This book was inspired by the ten-year journey of Michael Schayes following that moment in fifth grade. He rose from an unathletic, uncoordinated ten-year-old who liked basketball but had no skill and no team into a jacked-up, fast-footed deadly shooter who was recruited to play college basketball and made his way onto one of the most competitive prep school teams as a postgraduate student at The Kanwyn School.

This story isn’t about a top recruit or anointed superstar. It’s not about a young man who maximized his talent and rose to stardom. It’s about grit, determination, and an unending desire to succeed. It’s about failure and rejection and how to rebound and push forward. It’s about falling down, over and over again, and finding the inner strength to get back up. Michael Schayes never gave up and, as a result, grew into a much better basketball player than anyone ever expected. Along the way, Michael defined himself and set the tone for personal expectations that no outsider could touch. He became a man, a leader, and an amazing role model for others. And yes, he became a sick baller.

This story isn’t about the perfect father that got it right every time. It’s not about a dad who had an easy time navigating the trials of parenthood. This is a story about dealing with the past. It is about seeing yourself in your son and sometimes wanting a different result. It is about releasing anger and embracing each moment as it comes. Along the way, as I watched my son, I realized that it was he who was teaching me lessons on and off the court. Along the way, I was able to let go of the things that caused me pain and embrace those that gave me joy.

Ten years is a long time, during which every emotion bubbled over time and time again. These stories document our journey. Regardless of the sport, our personal journeys remain etched in our minds. They shaped our past, affect our present, and will impact our future. They will remain with us for a lifetime. There is no doubt that “ball” is a powerful word and conjures up all those memories, emotions, and dreams. It leaves with us a legacy—the legacy of ball.