“If you do not believe in yourself, no one will do it for you”— Kobe Bryant
Once upon a time, I felt invisible, a misfit. And to overcome that, I almost needed a magic lamp and all three wishes.
I was once a small boy, quiet, and shy, the kind of kid who slipped into the background unnoticed. I didn’t eat much, and it showed. My frame was small and my confidence even smaller. I got picked on and bullied sometimes and I often wondered if I would ever fit in anywhere. I didn’t have a voice; couldn’t stand up for myself; I didn’t even know who I was.
Then, at around seven years old, I met basketball and everything changed.
The first time I picked up a basketball, something inside me came alive. The bounce, the rhythm, the sound of it hitting the court all felt alive, almost like a heartbeat. It awakened a fire in me that I didn’t know I had. Suddenly, I had purpose, an escape.
In some ways, Basketball gave me my identity. It gave me confidence. It gave me a reason to wake up early, to chase improvement, to dream. The same boy who once dreaded mornings was now setting alarms for 5 a.m. practices. Running sprints, working on off-ball drills, pushing past exhaustion, the court became my sanctuary, my teacher, and my mirror. It even taught me how to eat because one needed energy to sustain the fire, and so I grew.
Through basketball, I learned discipline. What started on the court soon seeped into my life whether it was being early for class, studying harder, or being more responsible in everything I did. The game taught me accountability: to own my mistakes, to celebrate teamwork, and to understand that greatness doesn’t happen alone and that it takes time. You don’t perfect a move overnight and thus patience, too, became part of my rhythm. Perfection never came overnight. Whether it was mastering a jump shot or perfecting a move I’d seen on TV, it demanded repetition, again and again until your muscles remembered, until it became instinct. That repetition wasn’t just practice; it was growth.
Basketball is the ultimate team sport. Each player from the point guard to the rim protector has a role. When everyone plays their part, the team moves like one synchronized system. That understanding shaped how I approach life, work and relationships: collaboration, trust, and collective effort always win.
But the game also taught me something deeper, resilience. That even on your best day, you can lose. And on your worst, you can still win. The real victory lies in getting up after every fall, adjusting your stance, and trying again. Injuries came, be it twisted ankles, broken wrists, hyperextended fingers, bruises that ached for days, name it, but every setback became another lesson in persistence and resilience. Like a phoenix, I learned to rise from the ashes, stronger each time.
Basketball taught me how to lead and how to be led. To trust the coach’s plan even when I didn’t fully agree. To encourage teammates through losses, to celebrate their wins as my own, and to understand that leadership is about service as much as direction.
Basketball didn’t just build my character; it opened doors. I went on to study Law at university, and I know I wouldn’t have been there without the game. My constant came through, again. Competing at the national level had earned me extra UNEB points, a reward for years of dedication to the game. Those points, combined with my academic success, sealed my admission and scholarship, and I am eternally grateful.
On the court, I learned how to win. In life, I learned how to deserve those wins. Whether it was exams, debates, or even a simple game of cards, I played to excel, not just to compete. That mindset turned me from an overlooked kid into a determined man, one who knows that basketball gave him more than a game; it gave him a story, one of redemption.
To anyone chasing a dream: stay true to your craft, your purpose, your “game.” Because when you give it your all, it gives back in ways you can’t imagine. Most importantly, believe in yourself because no one else will.
And because basketball saved my life, it will always be;
Dribble. Jump. Shoot. Repeat. That’s the pulse of my redemption.
Love, always, Arnold.
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