Lately, I'm seeing all these articles on coaches who ruined or didn't ruin a sport for them. So, I thought I'd hop on the bandwagon. I started playing basketball later than most of the girls in my sport. Seventh grade and I had very little motivation for joining; in fact, I knew practically nothing about basketball. I cannot recall why I signed up on that sheet and went to try-outs. But I made the team with the minuscule amount of skills that I had.

I went through several coaches throughout the years from seventh grade to senior year. Some were horrible. Some were just great. But none were like my senior year coach.

You see, I was lacking in the skills expected of my age, but that didn't mean they cut me from the team. The head coach pulled me over to get our uniforms and he looked at me and said, "How do you feel about playing JV?"

I told him I didn't care. And I didn't. I still don't. All I ever wanted was to play basketball. I didn't care that I was a senior playing junior varsity. By that point, I was only there because I'd been there for years before. I'd lost my love for the sport by then, beat down into believing I didn't deserve to be on that court, taught that because I didn't have the correct last name that I had a permanent spot on the bench.

And then, in came this coach. She was awesome. Not because she played me. But because she believed in me. She trusted me to play my best. She gave me the opportunity, the only thing I ever really wanted, to prove myself. I treated me as a leader, as a competent ball-player, and in return I acted like one. I felt confident in my abilities.

I went up for a rebound and nearly knocked myself out coming back down. They ran a concussion test but determined I didn't have one. I went back in. Then I lost my hearing due to a rough screen, she pulled me. I was upset but moreso because I just wanted to keep playing. Then our point guard fouled out and because we were junior varsity there were no other players on the bench. She looked at me and I think I lied to her face. At the time I didn't know though.

I was running on adrenaline and desire. She asked if I was okay to go in, where my headache was on a number line. I told her a zero. Only after I came off the court did the headache set me back. But I wanted to play so bad that I couldn't tell. She put me back in and even as I dribbled down the court half-sideways because my balance was thrown. Even so, we were down by three and I'd been hitting my threes. Drawing up a play, she relied on me. I had to make the shot.

I missed the shot. And every time I step onto a court at college, I practice that play. Run around the screens, twist with the pass, and shoot. Sometimes, I miss. Sometimes, I make it. Every time I curse myself for what could have been.

You see, I was just going through the motions. By that time, I only played because it seemed pointless to quit my senior year. And then this new coach comes in and I fell in love with the game all over again. I told her the last game how much she meant to me, that she was the best basketball coach I'd ever had. But I don't think I ever told her she saved the game for me, made me love it again.

Thank you, Coach. I will never forget what you did for me.