Luggage to London with less baggage to claim

I climbed more than 500 steps to get to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London last summer (2008). I served as an assistant coach for an NBC Camps Tour team of Canadian boys who were in England and South Wales to play against British competition. I was asked to help lead the tour team about 1 – 1 1/2 months before the squad met in Calgary for conditioning and after talking with my wife I accepted the offer. So I was off to collect some new flags for my collection, an exclusive genre comprised of banners that meet one requirement. The flags I collect have to come from the soil they represent. So my passport, my $19 Big 5 over-sized duffle bag and my reluctance boarded a plane and left the country to meet a bunch of strange teenage boys, a coach I’d only talked with via email and countless “blokes” who would become my mates (homies) by the end of the excursion.

All tolled, we won about 10 of 16 games if my math is right, ate real Fish and chips, nearly had a player’s retina detached, likely saw one of our better player’s nose broken, lost a player on a train and, among other feats, saw and played a game of cricket. (I’m not sure if cricket is played in games or matches.)

I bought a sword, saw the abuse of the U.S. dollar first hand and got used to riding on the front left side of vehicles instead of the right. The only basketball I actually played while in England was in a 3-on-3 memorial benefit for a dynamic young man who had touched the lives of dozens of young people through basketball but perished far too young.

Flashback to May 25, 1997 – I’m walking across the stage of Chapman University after completing four years of undergraduate study. I’m ready to tryout for any overseas professional team who will give me a workout and some close friends of the family have just given me luggage as a graduation gift. These people were like family and with a grin of pride they simply said, “You’ll be going places.” It wasn’t a riddle and it wasn’t figurative to me. My thoughts were that I’d need the luggage because I was about to get a passport, make a team and grab the tax-free foreign currency of choice. I prayed for this juncture all through college with the same fervor I had prayed to marry the first girl I was excited about meeting in college.

But in both the case of the girl and the case of my professional career overseas, neither materialized. Consider the prayer and the gift from my family friends. They said I’d be going places but didn’t say why. Since 1997, I’ve traveled to roughly four countries outside of the United States, one of them twice and all for the purpose of helping others. I needed the luggage just as people said I would and in the 12 years since I left Chapman, I’ve developed a deep appreciation for the way prayers get answered. It doesn’t mean I always agree with the way they’re answered but the enlightenment and richness gained is indisputable. See, I never thought I’d travel let alone make friends and correspond with them across thousands of miles and time zones. Somehow I grew up thinking I was lucky to have any friends at all. (Side note: If you’re like me, there are times when you think you’re a failure at everything including being of any importance to the people around you.) That said, the Canadian boys, Canadian coach and a group of people in Great Britain are now in my network. They’re my allies and more importantly friends who share passion for sport and life. I’m connected to people in a way I don’t quite understand but what I do know is that basketball took me exactly where I thought it would and yielded far more than I expected. Occasionally I get text messages from across the Atlantic or facebook wall postings from Canadian little brothers. Life is inexplicably fuller and I never earned a dime playing basketball.

Here’s where I’m supposed to say i don’t regret having not played professionally overseas or in the NBA. NOT QUITE! At this point, I don’t know if I’ll ever not feel pain at the mentioning of pro basketball. My mom asked me the other day about those feelings of wishing I’d seen my dream to fruition – something no one has asked for quite some time. I told her that the deep wounds may always be there. We all have our abrasions and gashes but as trite as it sounds, if I’m able to  embrace what I was told on graduation day 1997, the rest of life will be spent “going places” that bless the soul of the world outside my window. Good News! I get the feeling I’m not the only one with luggage and a passport.