Game Seven
Michael Skoubis died of a heart attack early yesterday morning.
He was my basketball coach for as long as I could remember. But he was not just a basketball coach; he was much more than just a basketball coach.
The last game he ever coached for me keeps running through my head. It was for a basketball tournament and it happened to be women of all ages. My 18 year old self was now going to have to face a team of women. Grown up, experienced, 25 year old women. Some even had children. All I could think about was how much of a joke this game was going to be.
Skoub and I were standing under the basket waiting for the game before us to end.
“33,” he pointed to a women with that jersey number. “That’s their biggest threat,” he said to me. “But don’t let their age intimidate you. You can beat this team,” he finished.
“You think so?” I asked.
“I know so. You’ve got her on D, okay?”
“What?! No. Lidia or Anastasia should take her, they’re faster than I am,” I argued.
“She’s yours, Jen,” he concluded and walked away. I knew there was no point in arguing so I let it go.
I payed attention to her during warmups so I didn’t do much warming up myself. I watched her. She had a good fade away and a really strong dribble with her right hand but when it came to her left she didn’t have much control.
Minutes later the whistle sounded to start the game. I made eye contact with her when I walked on the court; “I got 33,” I yelled. She smirked but little did she know I really did have her.
Tip off to me and I’m already on a breakaway. Layup, 2 points. 33 was bringing up the ball and I pushed her to her left. Instantly she fumbled it and l stole it. Another breakaway, another two points. Next time up the court she had me with a fade away though.
“Swish.”
Three points.
I made sure to retaliate though. And every time I retaliated, so did the other team. Back and forth for all 32 minutes. They didn’t think they had an even match-up but my team made sure that they had one. There was no way that they were gonna walk all over us.
To my demise, we lost that game in overtime, 44-43, however, there was one good thing about it. The last game I ever played for Michael Skoubis was a game where I played my heart out.
We may have lost, but it was never about losing with him. It was always about playing with heart and I did that; boy did I do that. He had faith in me that I absolutely didn’t have. And for that, and for many other things, I am so thankful.
Michael Skoubis died of a heart attack early yesterday morning.
He was my basketball coach for as long as I could remember. But he was not just a basketball coach; he was much more than just a basketball coach. He was family and I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.
Rest easy, Skoub.
He was my basketball coach for as long as I could remember. But he was not just a basketball coach; he was much more than just a basketball coach.
The last game he ever coached for me keeps running through my head. It was for a basketball tournament and it happened to be women of all ages. My 18 year old self was now going to have to face a team of women. Grown up, experienced, 25 year old women. Some even had children. All I could think about was how much of a joke this game was going to be.
Skoub and I were standing under the basket waiting for the game before us to end.
“33,” he pointed to a women with that jersey number. “That’s their biggest threat,” he said to me. “But don’t let their age intimidate you. You can beat this team,” he finished.
“You think so?” I asked.
“I know so. You’ve got her on D, okay?”
“What?! No. Lidia or Anastasia should take her, they’re faster than I am,” I argued.
“She’s yours, Jen,” he concluded and walked away. I knew there was no point in arguing so I let it go.
I payed attention to her during warmups so I didn’t do much warming up myself. I watched her. She had a good fade away and a really strong dribble with her right hand but when it came to her left she didn’t have much control.
Minutes later the whistle sounded to start the game. I made eye contact with her when I walked on the court; “I got 33,” I yelled. She smirked but little did she know I really did have her.
Tip off to me and I’m already on a breakaway. Layup, 2 points. 33 was bringing up the ball and I pushed her to her left. Instantly she fumbled it and l stole it. Another breakaway, another two points. Next time up the court she had me with a fade away though.
“Swish.”
Three points.
I made sure to retaliate though. And every time I retaliated, so did the other team. Back and forth for all 32 minutes. They didn’t think they had an even match-up but my team made sure that they had one. There was no way that they were gonna walk all over us.
To my demise, we lost that game in overtime, 44-43, however, there was one good thing about it. The last game I ever played for Michael Skoubis was a game where I played my heart out.
We may have lost, but it was never about losing with him. It was always about playing with heart and I did that; boy did I do that. He had faith in me that I absolutely didn’t have. And for that, and for many other things, I am so thankful.
Michael Skoubis died of a heart attack early yesterday morning.
He was my basketball coach for as long as I could remember. But he was not just a basketball coach; he was much more than just a basketball coach. He was family and I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.
Rest easy, Skoub.