THE announcement by basketball superstar LA Tenorio that he is battling stage 3 colon cancer prompted me to send a message to some of my former players and colleagues in the PBA, particularly those I worked with under the Coca- Cola franchise, which existed from 2002 to 2012.
Get yourself tested, I told those who were “of age,” because colon cancer is one of those easily dealt with if detected early on. As an example, I cited my older brother who was diagnosed with stage one last year and underwent treatment successfully (hence our reunion in Hawaii two weeks ago to celebrate life); I also cited my own colonoscopy in 2020 (part of my executive check-up) which turned out to be negative, with the next one I am planning to have maybe by next year.
The colonoscopy procedure is much more simple in execution than what we imagine; first and foremost, you are sedated anyway and if everything is fine you’re done in about 15 minutes for the process itself. Soon, you’ll be awakened by the doctor who will tell you what happened or what they saw or did not see, and what, if any, comes next.
Actually, it’s the preparation for the procedure that is quite tedious.
But the revelation by LA, and a discussion about basketball and life with my friend Bieb, got me thinking more deeply about how the two are so related to each other — especially for a Filipino — with one big difference.
‘The roar of the crowd is great, and I will ignore the boos — but what matters most to me is that whenever the time comes that the game ends for me then I could truly say I did my best…’
For basketball and for life, a unique skill matters. You bring a skill or talent to the court or the stage and you are given a role to play. And compensated for it. But to play your role well, it is important for you to know how to be focused, to be “in the zone” when you are in court or at work, so that you can deliver what is expected of you, and more.
You cannot be good at your talent or skill unless you hone it. Practice and constant improvement mean lifelong learning. The best players are usually the first to arrive on court to warm up and sometimes are even the last to leave. And they are disciplined enough to know when it’s time to be serious at practice and when it’s time to joke around and relax.
In basketball as well as in life you can’t win alone. So it’s important to know how to be a team player — how to contribute your skills for the better of the team — and how to choose the right group of teammates to complement and boost your own talents and skills. Be with the wrong crowd, or teammates with the wrong attitude, and you get nowhere. You may, for example, be the top scorer for your team at every game but what if the team constantly loses?
Choosing the right coach or mentor for you is also all so important.
In basketball and in life, one commits errors. The trick is not to dwell on them but to get back in the game focused on the moment and on doing better. Of course, every error matters so the ideal is to avoid errors. But this is not to say one avoids trying at all because what’s the best way to avoid making a mistake than not trying at all?
With an attitude like that you don’t deserve to be on the playing court at all.
But here’s the big difference.
Basketball games have a fixed duration. It’s four quarters of 12 minutes each for the pros and 10 minutes each for the amateurs. This has many consequences, including knowing that any errors you commit in the first 30 or 36 minutes can still be made up for in the last quarter. And it’s the final buzzer that matters.
But life has no clear duration. For some of us it can be a quick one quarter of a game; for others it can appear to be an eternal OT (overtime) with no end in sight. Which means that every move counts. Every opportunity to score counts. Every error counts. And as for errors, it also means no one can ever tell if you’ll get a second chance to make up for your mistake.
When I think of my life in this manner knowing that a final buzzer will come at an undetermined time in the future, I am only made more conscious of the fact that every opportunity to do something fulfilling matters. The roar of the crowd is great, and I will ignore the boos — but what matters most to me is that whenever the time comes that the game ends for me then I could truly say I did my best, I enjoyed living and playing the game and I hope my family and friends are proud — and better off — because of the effort I put in.
