FACES OF GRCC

left and right in five on five. I was the
kid who got picked last. And I took
offense to that. People have always
told me I’m too short, I’m not strong
enough, I’m too slow.
I’ve always had a chip on my shoulder,
my mom was 4-foot-6, legally a
dwarf. My dad was six-foot-two. I ended
up five-foot-seven. I played every
game, every practice, every possession
as it was my last. I was taught that
by the legend Jim Goorman a Hall of
Fame Coach to play every game like
it is your last because you will never
know when you have to hang the
shoes up.
I didn’t start playing organized basketball
until the seventh grade. I was
always a little bit heavy. In football I
played fullback and middle linebacker.
So my skillset on the court wasn’t the
best. I tore my ACL in the eighth grade
in the first game of the season, and
that ended my football career. A year
long recovery would make me miss
the basketball season as well.
Freshman year of high school, I
struggled with classes and was ineligible
halfway through the season. I
then saw Western Michigan Christian
(WMC) High School in Norton Shores
win its third state basketball championship
in a row. I told my mom we
needed to check this school out, and
she agreed. I went on a shadow visit
and met a man that would change my
life entirely. Jim Goorman, aka “Gip,”
was the varsity basketball coach at the
time, and a well known coach in Muskegon.
I talked to him about playing
varsity.
“I’ll have to see you play,” he said.
“We have a lot of talent on this team
right now. We’ll see if you can make
it.”
After, that summer of training,
and playing on the American Youth
Basketball Tour team (AYBT) at WMC,
I ended up transferring to WMC. It is
one of the best choices I ever made in
my life.
Sure enough, I wasn’t good enough
and did not make the varsity team.
Three Division I players were on the
varsity team. I didn’t play much when I
was on the JV team because of grades.
I also had attitude problems at home
and at school. Life was tough. My dad
wasn’t in my life at the time, after he
got in a drunk driving accident, nd
he really never played a major role.
He was there as much as he could be
when I was younger. I remember the
times when we would grill out and
always push the patties into the grill to
hear the sizzle. My dad always loved
to cook and I would look forward to
coming over in the summer on my
weekend visits. But, one thing that has
always stuck with me, was what he
said to me when I started to tell him
what I wanted to be when I got older.
I remember him telling me when I
was 13 years old that I would never
make it to the pros.
“You’re not good enough,” he said.
“You never will be.”
That stung. It made me feel worthless.
It put a burning desire in me to
prove him wrong.
After my sophomore season I
was fed up with not playing a lot. I
played on an AAU team that spring
and worked my butt off that summer
to make the varsity team. I made the
team, but other assistant coaches
didn’t want me on the team. Only Gip,
the head coach, believed I deserved a
spot. We struggled that season with a
5-16 record, Gip’s last year coaching.
He had become a strong father figure
to me by that time.
I had another summer to improve,
where I worked twice as hard, four
hours a day in the gym. Ball handling
with a WMC legend London Burris,
shooting drills with Evan Bruinsma,
arguably the best player to come out
of WMC. I had a decent senior year
of high school. I made the front cover
of the Grand Rapids Press newspaper
sports section and the Grand Haven
Tribune front cover for my hard work
on the court. I’ll be honest I did not
know about it until a few friends
showed me. I hit a few buzzer beaters,
one for the win and one for a tie. But, I
was inconsistent.
My mom watched my best game I
ever played all around. It was at our
crosstown rival Muskegon Catholic
Central. It was the Catholics against
the Christians. My first shot was in and
out. The next one, came off a screen
and I let it fly from deep and let’s just
say the bank was open at 8 p.m. It
continued throughout the night. I hit
another three-pointer and it hit the
front of the rim and bounced in. At
that point, anything I shot was going
in, at least I thought. My next shot was
a 75 footer for the tie at the end of the
third quarter. Our student section went
nuts. I was smiling, but I knew we had
another quarter to play. We would go
on to win by a final score of 55-48.
All I remember is looking at my mom
tearing up telling everyone, “that’s my
son.”
That night, I walked outside to the
car with my mom, carrying her oxygen
tanks. My mom went through a lot.
She had asthma and suffered from
heart failure when she had my twin
brothers. She started crying in the car
and told me that it was the best game
she ever saw me play. I thanked her
and told her it was for her.
Receiving my diploma was the
biggest accomplishment for me at
the time. I didn’t know that my high
school graduation would be the last
time I would ever take a picture with
my mom.
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