In 2018, I knew nothing about basketball.
I tried my best to stay up with pop culture surrounding black athletes, so I could tell you who Lamar Odom was and where LeBron James was from. All things above that level of knowledge would see my black card revoked.
I was invited by two of my very close friends to play basketball on their social basketball team. There is nothing social about adults who were gifted high school players, taking the court. Social basketball leagues have taken men, who used to play for 10 hours a week in high school, and force their aging bodies into a 15-minute Saturday slot nationwide.
I have seen junior policy analysts sink fadeaways and pick up technical fouls. Bearing witness to some of the nastiest trash talk from men who have budding careers in the public service and are close to 500+ connections on LinkedIn. The kid that was once touted by scouts as being “might become something in the future” is now shoehorning all of his energy into the next 30 minutes on this court; should you stand in his way of glory you will understand the definition of Meta World Peace.
These friends, CK and NL grew great, life-altering inspiration from basketball players. The Mamba Mentality of Kobe or the “dog” inside Kevin Garnett were references that I would understand soon enough. I was horrible at basketball when I first began. Racking up six fouls, three turnovers, two backcourt violations and 6 successful passes; I really just attended to watch them play. You really get to know a man when you watch him play a sport; the best and the worst sides.
In 2020, CK had a traumatic physical injury which saw him opt for a prosthetic and get rid of his leg, one of the harder decisions for any lover of basketball. His remark, high off a ketamine infusion pre-amputation, was that he would still be able to dunk at some point in his life.
I made sure to visit him during his recovery and just chew the fat. The fourth time I visited him, his girlfriend scurried around the house trying to get the place ready for visitors. In no way was the room messy or untidy, but I just took my seat in the lounge. And there I saw it.
Paused and frozen on the TV. A Derrick Rose highlight reel titled Unbroken. I noted it and just kept it moving. My YouTube recommended list isn’t the most understandable to the naked eye and was not about to cast judgement on my friend who was getting back into routine post-surgery.
The only time I had heard Derrick Rose’s name before was in my preferred sport, football. Enter, Antoinne Greizmann. A French footballer who plays for Atletico Madrid in Spain’s top flight football league, La Liga.
After winning the World Cup in 2018, Greizmann takes the microphone from his teammate Paul Pogba and declares:
From what I have gathered, after watching all of his fan-made and professionally shot documentaries/mixtapes/highlight reels, Derrick Rose is the statue for men who have fallen short due to external circumstances.
Derrick Rose, was drafted first overall by his hometown team, the Chicago Bulls in 2008. Already off to an unbelievable start. Feeling like a hometown hero but also beating out every single one of your competitors is iconic for the start of your career. He won Rookie of the Year in that 2008/09 season. You’d be pretty stoked right?
Smile rating: stoked to be here.
So the kid is clearly a talent in the league, but may not have what it takes to be a top player. There are so many top players in the league that he will have to be compared to because of his expectations; LeBron James and Dirk Nowitzki just to name two. No more than two seasons later…
A race that isn’t even remotely close sees Derrick Rose become the youngest ever MVP (Most Valuable Player) in the NBA. Entering a league full of veterans, household names and large personalities; Derrick rose to the top of the ladder within THREE YEARS. His reaction? Stoked. To. Be. Here.
Rose is the epitome of the hoop dream. Most of the documentaries I have watched about him are littered with sports analysts and announcers gawking over his numbers, +/- and his All-Star placements. Our intrigue with Rose does not derive from his numbers. His statue is earned through the following.
America provides grainy dashcam footage of murders. American sports television provides you with high quality footage of athletes' facial reaction and skin moisture levels. Therefore, in my research, I have watched this video countless times and it hurts every time.
In 2011, Rose signed a five-year deal for $94.8 million USD. In a league where most players are getting 2-3 year contracts, this signifies that Chicago loves him and are willing to make him their star.
Less than a year following that contract, Rose tears his ACL in a playoff game and breaks down crying on the court. This injury will take 8-12 months to recover from. Chicago doubled down and kept him on the payroll, eager for him to come back.
He returned in October 2013.
48 days later, he suffers a torn meniscus in his right knee and requires surgery.
He returned in October 2014.
Four months later he is ruled out indefinitely and requires more surgery on his right knee.
Good knees are essential to play the game of basketball. I’m aware that most of you will use a keyboard for a job, so let’s take a step back and put ourselves in his And1 shoes.
Imagine having your hands just swell up to the point of being unable to function properly. You miss 82 weeks at work and your boss still believes in you.
You come back to a large applause from teammates who have missed you dearly and they’ve covered your desk in confetti. Your deskmate has actually left on maternity leave and returned after having twins. You don’t know their names.
Less than 2 months later, your arms swell up and you are unable to work for a further 71 weeks. Frustrating, and even though your superiors believe in you, your hope is diminishing.
You return, after 153 weeks missing.
It’s a new team and your colleagues, higher and lower, have moved onto greener pastures. You don’t remember what your job even entails anymore. In your penultimate meeting back you set an organisation-wide record of 11 cases of misconduct (turnovers) and even though you did get that deal over the line (buzzer beater against Golden State Warriors in overtime) you question if you’ll ever reach your potential pre-injuries.
Your deskmate has to leave to pick her children up from nursery. They’re three now.
If I broke my fingers four times in the span of three years, I would give up. Not only would I give up, I would take up yodelling in the steppes of Mongolia and change my name.
I look into the eyes of CK, who opted for the amputation rather than reconstructing his leg above the knee, and see something more than hope. I see what Derrick Rose means to him.
When all else makes no sense and those who have loved you for your performance have given up. You used to argue whether the spotlight was dimming or flickering; but it has gone completely out. When you are confronted by yourself each night, to stop and never start again. You succumb to the dreams that your potential will be the talk of the town rather than your achievements; how great you could be has become the greatest thing about you.
You decide that is not enough, and defying all logic and common sense, you decide to keep going.
You get up when it literally makes no sense to keep going. What a pessimist would believe is an embarrassment, is you treating tomorrow like there are no new barriers. It is another Monday.
Derrick Rose does not represent motivation, nor perseverance. He represents a piece of CK, a piece of me; that we are all too frightened to talk about because of it’s perception.
Rose represents delusion. To be great, to come back from what should have killed you, you require an energy that breaches inspiration. It requires something that disallows intelligence to have any opinion. A journey that makes no sense to those who watch you train, get up and try again.
To keep going, is the greatest victory of all. I look into the eyes of CK’s child, and not only do I see love. I see more than a product of being born from delusion to persist.
I see Rose’s 50 point game and the tears that followed. A champion for every man, every person that has hit a roadblock that was impossible to move; to move that shit. To CK, I love you. Every day you wake up is closer to your 50-point game.
A statue for Derrick Rose is a statue for you. Keep hoopin’.
