Ever since I can remember, I can hear the dribbling of a basketball. When my father first introduced me to the sport, I though it was ridiculous and it broke my father’s heart. Not until my mother walked out from one of my games did I truly begin to appreciate it. When my younger brother was diagnosed with type one Diabetes, my parent’s lives became focused on understanding his condition. I had no control over the situation. Frustrated I went to the only place I could have control. There, I exercised disciple and patience. My basketball games were one of the few things that would help my parents forget, reality. And they have always been one of the few places where I know who I am, taking away all thoughts of stress and doubt. Basketball isn't
