One of the most pure experiences that we can have as humans is love. Sometimes it comes naturally like with a sibling or a parent, other times it’s a slow burn like with one of your friends, and other times it’s everything all at once like with your romantic partner. To experience love for another human or animal is quite natural, but the more time that I spend on this pale blue dot, the more I realize that people don’t love abstract ideas enough.
There are people out there that don’t have a favorite album that they adore, they don’t have a favorite actor, and some people don’t even have a favorite meal. I truly feel sorry for those kinds of people, because they are missing out on what it means to be human. I have many loves in my life but the one that has never left my side is basketball.
That love started early on in my youth when my Dad introduced me to the West Virginia University Mountaineers men’s basketball team, and I never really looked back. Alex Ruoff, Joe Alexander, Mike Gansey, Joe Herber, and Kevin Pittsnogle are some of the first athletes I ever looked up to. I looked up to Kevin Pittsnogle so much that after he left WVU, when he entered his name in the 2006 NBA Draft and all 30 teams (like idiots) passed on him I was STILL by his side. He signed a Summer League contract with the Boston Celtics, and he didn’t do so great if I’m being honest, but his 92 days of employment in Bean Town has turned into 20+ years of me being a diehard fan of the team. If he’s a Celtic, I’m a Celtic. It was simple, really.
My love of the sport has transformed and grown with each game I watch and each year that passes. If you follow me on any of my social media accounts, you’ll see that I talk about the NBA, the WNBA, the EuroLeague, Big 3 basketball, Unrivaled, and the men’s and women’s college game. Basketball is a 24/7-365 kind of thing for me, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. It’s also by design.
I’ve also not made it a secret during my time on the internet that I’ve struggled with my mental health for over 16 years – more than half of my life. I wish I could tell you that it was something specific that sent me down this path, but I can’t. I think that it used to be this abstract thing that no one could pinpoint, but in reality it’s a plethora of things: the state of the world with the Dipshit in Charge who lives in the Whitehouse, the fact that so many people are too stupid to not use ChatGPT or Claude for the most basic tasks which is directly impacting the quality of our limited drinking water which also impacts our breathable air, the fact that billionaires are a protected class that are immune from rebuke or punishment, the fact that despite record breaking profits every single year my company refuses to increase my wages, the atrocities that I have to witness online committed by ICE, the fact that Palestinians are brutally being murdered everyday for having the audacity to exist, the fact that the same exact thing could be said to people in the trans community, and if I could throw one small potato thing into this laundry list, the Celtics traded Jaylen Brown for nothing.
Much like the alien in San Antonio, I refuse to carry the burden of hiding my emotions. Being that vulnerable, and being this culturally aware often puts me in a deep depression. I have tried therapy and medication, and while I won’t deny that it works for some people (and could even work for me), I do not get paid enough to afford the help I need because this country is so afraid of the word “socialism”. A concept so vast and complex that only 32 of the 33 advanced countries have been able to pull it off. I am hopeful that one day I will be able to live in a world where my tax dollars can be used to provide for the people in my community who need it the most instead of funding bombs that are killing millions overseas.
My life, and my awareness in that life, is often very dark and the only real respite that I have is when I get to see that orange ball go into the hoop. I wish I could tell you what I admire so much about it, but I don’t have the words. That seems silly to say while I’m in the middle of what I’m sure will be a 2000+ word article, but my love for this silly little game is ethereal, esoteric, and intricate. There’s so much pain and suffering in the world, and I’ve experienced some painful losses in my personal life as well. I know that saying that something so trivial helps me in my lowest moments may seem convoluted, but it is true for me and so many other people like me.
I started my content creation journey in December of 2023. I won’t say that I’ve been at it for a “long time” because in reality, there are plenty of people that have been at it for way longer than I have and have seen the same (or even less) success that I’ve been able to accomplish. I’m incredibly thankful that I’ve had the success online that I’ve seen, no matter how modest to you it may seem. I have over 1300 followers on TikTok, I just crossed 650 subscribers on YouTube, and I’m also a contributor on SB Nation’s Utah Jazz site, SLC Dunk. More than anything, I’m incredibly thankful for the people I’ve met and the friendships I’ve made along the way. I don’t want to miss anyone, but I can assure you that if you’re reading this you are one of the ones I am thankful for.
I have dreams just like anyone else in this space. I want to have my own show one day on ESPN or TNT (doesn’t matter, really… I am available for hire), I want to have a radio show, and above all else I want to be paid to have an opinion about the game I love. That’s the dream. That’s been the dream since I was 15 years old when I witnessed a kid named Jason Cuffee that was so fucking good at basketball that it made me realize I never had a shot to even go Division 2.
That goal has only amplified after I lost my father in April of 2025. He introduced me to this game, and in an indirect way, he also helped me hone in on what it means to be a content creator. We used to have this VCR on one of our childhood TVs that sat in our family room. I used to play NHL 2002 on the PS2, record the games I played, and the very second that my dad came home I showed him what I recorded. I didn’t know it then, but his willingness to watch what I made for him helped me be more comfortable in myself and aspire for something in this space. It’s been a hard year and some change without him, and while I’d gladly give all of this up to have him back, I’m incredibly grateful for his belief in me.
I’m also fully aware that this dream may never come to be. This space is very saturated, and more importantly there are some very talented people who are deserving of the same spots that I think I’m worthy of, most of which I am lucky enough to call my mutuals and friends. There may come a day where I will have to look myself in the mirror and come to grips with the fact that even though I did everything I could have, it just isn’t in the cards for me to live out my dream. That will certainly be a sad day for me, but as long as I have basketball to comfort me, I think I’ll be okay.
The losses I’ve experienced in life are not unique or special, but they are unique and special to me. You can only have your first heartbreak once. You can only lose your dad once. You can only lose your grandparents once. Each time I’ve experienced one of these events, basketball has been there to soften the blow.
I had my first serious girlfriend when I was a Junior in high school, and like every stupid 16 year old, I thought that she was the one. She went on a trip to Florida to see some family and participate in a college sponsored softball camp. During the month or so that she was away, she made the call to end our 9 month relationship and I thought I would never recover. I unfortunately had to go to work that day so for the next 8 hours I bagged groceries and ran the cash register with tears in my eyes and snot coming out of my nose. The next day, though, I wasn’t scheduled to work so after crying some more after I woke up, I went to the backyard to get some shots up. The breakup was impacting me, no doubt, so the shots were not falling. I was always told that if I can’t impact the game by scoring, I have to find another way to contribute. Thankfully for me at the time, and still to this day, I’m a HUGE Rajon Rondo fan. I spent the next several hours working on my handle, doing the “Rondo” ball fake, and I even coerced my brother into coming out to be the recipient of my playmaking ability. As silly as it is to say, Rajon Rondo helped me through my first breakup.
I lost all of my grandparents at a relatively young age; I haven’t had any since I was 23 or so. When my last grandparent passed away, the first thing I did after spending time with my family was head to the local court to shoot around before dark. It was therapeutic in a way. It wouldn’t bring them back, but for a brief moment, I was able to step out of my body and get my mind off of it.
Then my dad passed away. My hero, my inspiration, my go-to guy for any big accomplishment I’ve made in life. I had just recently moved to a different state three months prior. The very last thing that my Dad said to me in person was “I’ll see you soon”, and I would be lying if I said that those words don’t fuck me up on a daily basis. My brother was the one who had to break the news to me, and as he and my father were both in the medical field, I wasn’t even in the first 20 people to know. I would be lying if I said that fact didn’t fuck me up as well. I don’t hold and resentment to anyone who knew prior to me, but it is a bitter pill to swallow even after all this time. I had talked to him the day before it happened. I was a guest on a podcast so I sent him the link just in case he wanted to listen. I’m not sure if he ever watched/listened, but I am telling myself that he did. That in the limited hours he had left in this plane of existence, he got to hear his son talk about something he cared so deeply about.
I was pretty numb and detached after receiving the news. I also didn’t have much time to try and relax: I had to pack, book a flight, and then travel back to my home state for the service. I spent a week with my family before I had to go back to my new home, but right before I left I tried to take my mind off of things, and NBA Playoff basketball was there for me when I needed it. I couldn’t tell you who was playing, what the score was, or who scored the most points in that game, but what I can tell you is that when things in my life take a wrong turn, my parachute is that (sometimes) orange ball.
I’m currently going through something right now that I’m not comfortable divulging, but it has again caused an incredible sadness in me. Like most life altering experiences, I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this one. I am sad most hours of the day, numb every other waking moment, and the worst part of it all is that I don’t even know how to effectively communicate how I feel or what I need to fix the issue. Some writer I am, huh? I don’t know what’s in store for me, but what I do know is that each night I sit down and watch a WNBA game to ease the pain. I know that I start my mornings with some throwback highlights and some coffee. I know that I enjoy my lunch breaks by reading a book about basketball (currently “There’s Always This Year” by Hanif Abdurraqib). I know that I have a Google Doc full of video ideas about a ton of different topics like the 2017-2018 Pelicans, the Kevin Garnett/Stephon Marbury Timberwolves, and the definitive Offensive Player(s) of the Year in the NBA and WNBA. To top it all of, if you couldn’t tell already, I know that I used this medium to talk about the sport I love the most in my darkest hours. I love this game, and I’ll never be able to repay it for what it has done for me.
To borrow a phrase from astronomer Carl Sagan, that pale orange ball means so much to me. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. I don’t know what I would do, or who I would be, without it.
Be kind. Tell somebody you love them.
Round The Game 
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