Being the 6-foot-4-inch junior starter last basketball season, I had big expectations for this upcoming season. After leading the team in rebounds and blocked shots as the man in the middle, I couldn’t wait to get back on the court.

The season was beginning. I woke up and got dressed in my dress pants, shirt and tie. As I tied the knot around my neck, looking at myself in the mirror, I came to the realization that I was getting dressed for no reason. I was getting dressed to play basketball, yet I wasn’t going to get to step foot on the court again in my high school career; at least not in my jersey, or as a playing member of my team.

Memories of my junior season on varsity rushed through my head forcing the adrenaline to pump through my veins. I remembered the games we won and the fun times we had. I thought of Thanksgiving because Thanksgiving reminds me of basketball. I thought of no school, lots of food and basketball. However, this time was different.

This time around, I wasn’t going to make the same memories because I didn’t feel the adrenaline in the same way. Instead, all I could feel was a bitter taste of letting others and myself down. I knew when the doctor told me I would not be able to play basketball that things would be different. But, once the weather started to get cold and football season ended, I naturally got back into basketball mode. The sad truth was that I wasn’t actually ever going to be in that mode.

As I arrived at school people talked to me about the team because they assumed I was still a part of the team: the traditional “good luck tonight” followed by “how did the game go” the next day. It was like I was there, but really wasn’t. I was torn between both worlds.

I didn’t have the usual game-day hype throughout the day.

I didn’t have the mentality that I could leave all that pressure on the court that night.

In all reality, I may sit on the bench and cheer as a Sequoit, but I’m really just another spectator cheering on the team as they make plays on the court.

Even before the game, when coach is talking about the plays, I get caught up in the moment and find myself preparing to execute them. Then I realize, those plays aren’t meant for me because I’m going to be on the bench watching them happen.

This new role was kind of weird because the minute I was on the bench in dress clothes instead of my uniform, it was like I was no longer a player but something more. When we played Marian Central the coach came up to me and said, “How are you doin’ coach?” Seriously? Coach. That’s me? It was an experience I didn’t think would happen, and, that isn’t really me. I’m a player. I’m on the team. In the end, it was kind of funny because he shook my hand and I didn’t say, “oh, I am not a coach”; I just let it happen. I was glad to be there and support everybody, but there was just a different approach to every game knowing I wouldn’t be playing. I knew I still meant something to the team and that I was still going to be helpful. But I definitely felt useless being on the bench while I watched everyone go around and warm up.

I was really hyped to watch the team play, but then realized I would not get my number called. It was especially hard during the game to watch the bad times.

It hit me.

The hardest thing happens when you know the team could use you and you could really help them in that area that they are struggling in. Now in areas of the game that I used to help out a lot in, like rebounding, I watch from the sideline feeling crippled not being able to step into the game and help benefit my team.

I rub my knees a lot during the games. I just want to be the best teammate I can be. I wish I could get out there, even for five minutes. I envy all the guys that can go out and play every day. It’s definitely frustrating to sit there and watch the team, especially when we are losing, but not in the way you’d expect. When you don’t have that jersey on, it’s not the same. I can’t help them on the court, so now I have to push myself to help them when they step off of it.

I knew I needed to step up my role on the bench to get all the guys pumped and to do whatever I can to help us win the game, mostly because I can’t physically go in and help. I’ve learned staying positive and helping to maintain mental focus is most beneficial to the team when calls or plays do not go our way.

My surgery was a really big process; it was a really big surgery. They said the full recovery is close to a year. I am at the point where I test myself. The last thing I want with this is a relapse because I tried to push myself. I understand that this time off makes it better for the future when I can play competitive basketball once again.

The doctors have cleared me for little activity here and there. The big problem with competitive sports is the risk of getting injured again. Being a big man, and going one-on-one with big guys in the post can cause a risk for getting re-injured. The intensity and stimulation of always pushing yourself to get better and get more in shape is not good for the healing. Externally I am healed, but internally my brain is still healing and will be for awhile. I might feel ready, especially because I am starting to feel better, but I’m not. Playing at the competitive level right now would not be the smartest thing to do.