Hey Super Trainers,
Just a quick reminder
As you may already know in 1985 my mom and I moved to America. “The land of opportunity”
I was eleven years old.
It was by far THE best decision of our lives.
Before we made the move
I remember watching American TV shows like The A Team, Dallas and Dynasty.
(Love Mr. T ;)
I fantasized about how coming to America meant “guaranteed success”.
As you already know I was waaaayyy wrong.
No country or person can “guarantee success”.
Only thing that a country or a person can guarantee is an “opportunity”.
That’s why America is called the “land of opportunity” not the “land of success”
My First Lesson In America.
At the age of eleven I was already a star “football” player in my old country. As a matter of fact they recruited me to practice with the national team.
(I guess if they can take you to war at twelve, eleven for soccer seems reasonable ;)
But we got the heck out of there.
We moved to America to a little town called “Sharon” Pennsylvania.
Sharon is a very small city 45 minutes north of Pittsburgh.
I soon found out that America’s definition of football was different than mine.
(And the rest of the world’s ;)
As a matter of fact none of the schools in the area offered my type of “football”.
So in the 9th grade I tried out for the basketball team.
What are you laughing at? I can hear you ;)
It is actually very funny since I’m only 5’5″ on a good day
Side Note: I once “misrepresented” myself to my wife (girl friend at the time) when she asked me “how tall are you”. I told her I was 5’7″ but that’s another story for another time.
OK, Back to trying out for the basketball team.
To this day I remember the tryout like it was yesterday:
It was a cold winter in Pennsylvania.
It was Saturday.
It was snowing.
It started at 9am.
I was wearing my brand new converse 76ers shoes with matching socks.
I looked and felt invincible.
After about two hours of tryouts
The coach Banazack started reading the names of all the players who made the team.
My name wasn’t called.
I was devastated.
There had to be a mistake.
I remember walking home in the snow (with my brand new shoes) crying my eyes out.
There had to be a conspiracy.
As I was walking home I kept telling myself “I didn’t make the team because: I was a foreigner, short, didn’t play last year, and various other excuses to justify the fact that:
I just sucked
When I arrived home my mom asked me what’s wrong son?
I replied I didn’t make the team and kept bawling my eyes out.
My mom then responded, well son you just need to get better and tryout next year.
My mom and I then sat down and devised a plan.
My goal was to get better and make the basketball team next year.
Practice after school at the the local boys club until 6pm.
(that’s when mom got off work and could pick me up)
After a year of practice, hard work and dedication coach Banazack couldn’t believe how much I had improved. I not only made the team but I started the following year.
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