Cycles

It’s disconcerting when a cycle is broken.

I think of a cycle as some systemized routine – a consistent fixture which serves some functional purpose. Before ninth grade, my only cycles consisted of school and maybe band for the three years I was in junior high. I played clarinet, took my instrument home on the weekends and even continued playing for one year in high school as a member of the marching band.

I wasn’t an avid clarinetist though because it was too easy to stop playing when I found a cycle to replace it. Basketball became my cycle the day I made the freshmen team in high school. I made first then second cuts, was issued a uniform, took team pictures, practiced everyday including some Saturdays. It was the first time I’d ever been a part of a real team that seemed to need my participation. We had duffle bags with “West Covina Bulldogs” silk screened on the side.

Band gave me something to which to belong but I never dreamed of competing in a field show competition as a kid growing up in south Los Angeles. When the basketball cycle ensued, it was game over and the new cycle was exhilarating. For the next 7 years fall meant basketball. The leaves change colors, the temperature cools, lunches are lost during preseason conditioning and the gym becomes a second home. There was no shortage of idols either as myself and kids like me watched men with the same skin color realize their dreams on our favorite NBA teams. I think this made the cycle that much more alluring as basketball became not only a place of belonging but a source of opportunity.

At 13, I thought there would be a jersey, an upcoming season and good health for at least the next 30 years. But I’m thankful for the eight. I wonder what kind of cycle you’re in right now?