In my teen years, basketball refereeing was my first paid job. I still remember going through several nights of classes, training on the job, and spending my meagre pay on candy from the shop at the court.
I don’t remember when I stopped playing, but it must have been sometime around the end of high school.
Fast forward twenty-five years, and I decide to return to the court, joining a women’s D-grade team. I’m ready to take my fitness to the next level, and perhaps meet some likeminded people.
Before my first game, I’m nervous but determined. With each warm-up shot before the game, I can feel the muscle memory returning. And playing the game is exhilarating. I find my rhythm, keeping up with the team and the opposition. Elated after one season on the women’s team, I decide to play on two teams the following season: the women’s team, and a mixed team with my husband.
It’s the second mixed game of the season. I’m dribbling the ball up the court under pressure, which, as a centre/forward, is not my comfort zone. When I stop, my opponent is very close to me. She thrusts her arms all around me, trying to steal the ball while I protect it.
Her movements are careless and aggressive. I suspect she’s retaliating against me for some hard contact earlier in the game.
Just then, her elbow connects with the bridge of my nose. Hard.
I hear a crack and feel blinding pain.
I yelp and fall to the ground in agony, pressing my hands to my nose as my whole face throbs.
Someone rushes to get ice, and it’s pressed into my hand. I’m led off the court and directed to put my head between my knees, which is how I spend the rest of the game—trying to sneak glances at the play.
And continually replaying that sickening crack in my mind.
I suspect it’s broken.
Over the course of the next few days, a scan confirms the break, but it’s not bad. There is no displacement, so it can be left to heal on its own. I only have to miss the next few games while I recover.
Good news, given the circumstances.
I try to turn my energy towards the skills I can improve in my own game. True, the broken nose wasn’t my fault, but a more skilled player may have avoided getting into that situation in the first place.
While my nose is healing, I can’t play in games. But I can train. I can practice shooting and dribbling. I can work on my fitness, so that when I get back to playing I can be physically stronger.
But despite my characteristic attempts to see the silver lining, I’m still feeling livid with anger towards the girl who did this to me.
I try to confront her the following week, but she’s not there. And in fact, I never see her again. So I need to process my emotions without that closure.
During those weeks off playing, I think. A lot.
I have to face the realities that I can’t change the past, and I have no control over other people.
The only thing that I can control, that I can change?
Myself.
I reflect on my typical attitudes and behaviours while playing. What can I improve to not only reduce the chances of something like this happening again, but also to improve my own reaction to it?
I had to admit that when playing, I had a tendency to absorb negative and aggressive energy from other players subconsciously, too easily, and to let it fuel me.
I would often complain about players, and even feel a shameful sense of glee when they fell down or got a foul called.
I’d never really thought about this before, but I had let myself mirror the behaviours of others around me, and that had subsumed my natural positivity.
This wasn’t me.
Not only that, but acting like this was totally unnecessary. This is a low-grade, senior, social league. My reasons for playing are to take my fitness to the next level, and to enjoy the feeling of team spirit. I don’t care much about winning. I don’t need to be the fanciest player on the court. This isn’t the WNBL.
What’s the point of being like this?
So, I make a conscious effort to turn it around. I decide that I’m going to be the happiest player on the court.
When I return to playing, I deliberately play with joy, not anger.
I approach games wanting to do my best, but also wanting to have a good time. I put a smile on my face. I shake hands before and after the game.
I applaud all good shots, no matter which team the shooter is on. If someone falls, I help them up. I find opportunities for a friendly chat, acknowledging good moves from teammates and opponents alike.
There’s no space for negativity and aggression in my game. I’m there to have fun and to get fit, and there’s no reason to do that at the expense of someone else’s enjoyment or safety.
The way I play basketball has transformed for the better. I just try to be the best mature-aged, mum-bodied, social league basketball player I can be.
Sure, nobody’s perfect. An opposing player can still get under my skin by playing too aggressively. But I still don’t care about winning, and I’m more present in the moment.
I’m not happy my nose was broken. But since it healed without treatment, I can appreciate the way it reshaped my attitude to the game of basketball. I’ve focussed on the parts of my game that bring me joy, and as a result I’m a better player.
Leave a Reply