Photo Credit: Gopher Athletics
When I was a boy, I dreamed of becoming a professional baseball player. Then, one cold November night in Whitewater, Wisconsin, my older brother hit a shot that changed the way I looked at sports—and the way I imagined my own future.
My love of sports started with baseball. We had a large satellite dish in our backyard so my dad could pick up television channels from across the country. That was a rare thing in those days, and for me, the best part was getting WGN out of Chicago. I could watch the Cubs.
Back then, Wrigley Field did not have lights, so home games were played during the day. I would jump off the school bus and run inside to catch whatever was left of the game. Baseball had my attention. I wanted to be one of those players.
Then came that night in Whitewater.
My mom got home from work, and we drove over to watch my older brother’s East Troy Trojans take on the Whitewater Whippets. Whitewater was a powerhouse in the Southern Lakes Conference and was expected to win the conference that season. East Troy was not expected to finish near the top. The Trojans had not won a conference championship since 1967.
There was a buzz in the high school as soon as we walked through the doors. The smell of fresh popcorn followed us toward the gym, where the stands were packed for the first conference game of the season.
The Trojans came ready to play. As the game stayed close, the crowd seemed to hang on every possession. You could feel the excitement building.
Near the end, East Troy trailed by one point. The coach called a timeout to draw up the final play.
The Trojans inbounded the ball to their 6-foot-4 post player, who was immediately double-teamed. He kicked it back out, and the ball swung around to my brother on the left side.
Two dribbles toward the baseline. Then he let it go.
For a split second, time seemed to stand still. The crowd hushed as the ball floated toward the basket.
Swish!
East Troy won!
To this day, I swear I saw my 5-foot-tall mother jump three feet into the air. The East Troy fans went nuts. The players jumped around on the court, hugging one another.
That was the night I caught basketball fever. I still have it today.
Later, lying in bed, I kept replaying my brother’s game-winning shot in my head. Only this time, I put myself in his place.
I could see myself taking those two dribbles. I could see the ball leaving my hands and falling through the net. I pictured making the varsity team and helping lead my team to a conference or state championship.
I did not have a name for it then, but I was discovering visualization—a tool I would use for the rest of my life.
Over the years, I returned to those pictures in my mind. Before games, I would listen to music and imagine myself playing well. More than a single winning shot, I pictured the kind of player I wanted to become.
Looking back, that night gave me two things: inspiration from watching my brother and a way to imagine what might be possible for me.
As Youth Basketball Parents, we can encourage our daughters to do the same. When a moment captures their imagination, give them room to dream about it. Ask what they see themselves doing and what kind of player they hope to become.
The picture does not always have to be a game-winning shot. It might be stepping onto the court with confidence, making a good pass, or staying composed after a mistake. Whatever they imagine, help them connect it to something they can work on at the next practice.
Picturing success does not guarantee it. There is still work to do. But in my experience, being able to see the player I wanted to become gave that work a purpose.
I went to Whitewater that night to watch my brother play. I came home with a love of basketball and a picture of what I hoped to become.
Our daughters will have moments that spark something in them, too. When they do, we can help them hold on to that inspiration—and take the next step toward their own dreams.
A note about this article: I used AI tools to help organize and polish this article. The personal experiences, memories, and reflections are my own. I reviewed the final version and take responsibility for its content.