Dear Basketball,

From the very first squeaky steps on Triandria's parquet and the wounds on my knees from falling down on the concrete courts next to our Hall, I knew I should stop trying other sports. Neither football, 100m and 200m running, handball, nor God-knows-what-else I tried back then could fascinate me as much as you did.

From the liveliness and the playfulness of the beginning, to the seriousness and high demand of the junior years, you always gave me that joy, satisfaction and that feeling of accomplishment. Later on, playing at first for 2 seasons at a more competitive stage as a youngster, I realised what it really was that made me fall in love with you and also want to commit myself to you. Being 'old enough' to get my ass to the Hall by myself, walking or riding my bike in cold and rainy, or hot and unbearable days, even when we had to train in that freezing, or sauna-like Hall, it always felt like home and I never regretted it. You were my only runaway from all my personal stress and problems as a teenager, my equilibrium between school or extra lessons and my mental and physical health. You were always there, even when I wasn't feeling like it.

And there I was...

The last two years before my Military Service, playing together with a bunch of players we kinda grew up together in the same Hall, watching them turn bigger, better, quicker, stronger and riper, while my competitive nature was starting to disappear - if it ever was present. Living in the shadow of a 6-years-older and successful (not only in terms of basketball) Brother; a Brother I was always looking up to, who would never 'let' me win in any way; from a PlayStation game, to a 1vs1 on the court, a Brother who would push me so far, that others would have felt blessed to have to bear such a pressure, it made me unfortunately a quitter. Every loss in any way, even if it was simply a wrong pass, a stolen ball, a blocked shot or a lost game, it dragged me down and depress my ego and my self-confidence. Even nowadays I am struggling to find out, where this losing-mentality derived from, but managing to overcome it now, makes it kinda worse. Sometimes I'd rather be that mediocre 6th man I was, but still playing basketball, instead of having the mentality, physical attributes and knowledge I own now, but not being able to play.

No one is to blame, dear Basketball. Nobody else, but me.

Coming back from the Military Service, I had to start as a 19 year old- with about a year of absence from the courts- at a new team that literally never really felt right playing for. With a Coach giving me the feeling that it is 'too late' to work on my deficits, I decided -after half a season- to leave the team and stop playing. My Brother, in the meanwhile, had created his own Team of old Friends and Basketball-Veterans and I eventually joined the Team for almost a whole season. I knew I didn't deserve much playtime, but it literally made me see the reason why I wasn't even bothering getting late to bed after practice or a game on weekdays, although I had to get up super early the next morning. It also is the reason why I found a Team as I came in Germany in 2014.

Not even knowing a single word in German, this Team helped me build my character, gain knowledge, make Friends and create a network of people, that was the beginning of who I would eventually be 6, almost 7 years later. And then I stopped again.

No. It wasn't the minor injuries, nor the requiring long-distance-relationship at that time, that made me sacrifice Our Relationship. It was my weakness to set my priorities straight, to speak up and demand to have a day or two on weekdays for Us. That's it. I miscarried to put You and, by extension, my Dream at the first place.

Two weeks ago I turned 27 and logic says it's too late, but my heart is craving for You, dear Basketball. That unbearable feeling of regret, the worst thing a person can ever feel along with the loss of a beloved one, is killing me. The memories and the 'what if's and the perception, that I didn't give you my all, as well as that I never reached my full potential, is making me feel miserable.

I wish I had somebody back then to talk to, when I could see I'm such a bad/mediocre player, I wish somebody would have seen how much I wanted to better myself and had taken me to a next level. I wish I weren't afraid of... fear and competition and somebody would have taught me that I can learn from those defeats, instead of talking harsh to and about myself.

I wish I could turn back time, dear Basketball, to the time my Father brought me into that Hall and signed me up. To the time my Mother and my Brother took me to that shoe store and bought me my first ever Basketball gear as a present, to the time I would spent my summer holidays in Basketball Camps or at our fucked-up court in my village, where I was that introverted kid that would even play Basketball at night, when everybody else was at the festival right next to it. To the time I had to run to practice in order to not be late, to the time I had to do 'suicides' because of somebody else's mistake, to the time I had to do 'the talk' with my Father after the game, to the time I would get belly cramps before a game...

To the time I chose YOU over everything else.

Dear Basketball,

I failed us.