SuppliedAutomatically assigned due to alphabetical order? An egregious clerical error? Destiny? However you describe my path to captaincy, it wasn’t a title I took lightly. You can’t just replace Mergim Binakaj, his legacy extending well past the designated tasks of signing the game sheet and posting our schedule.
He was instrumental in planning four offseason retreats where we learned the value of hard work, spending our summers toiling in the Binakaj’s extensive copper mines in Albania. He showed us that actions spoke louder than words — once drinking an entire gallon of whole milk before tipoff to demonstrate the human body was “capable of anything.” And most importantly he was a student of the game, sharing his knowledge on why Tim Duncan wasn’t a power forward before AND after every game.
On and off the court, this lead by example style served as the blueprint for four consecutive losing seasons and one mine shaft collapse. A successful tenure by any standard. But even the all-time greats retire at some point, and Mergim was no exception. And despite his guidance, there were inevitably some setbacks he couldn’t prepare me for. And I’ll be the first to admit them.
That team trip I planned to Edmonton’s House of Mirrors, only to find out it was glass storage facility. Using my new found influence to organize twelve van stakeouts, but not one practice. Signing everyone up for that workout program that turned out to be a cult.
But perhaps my greatest shortcoming was the inability to get the most out of my teammates. The toughest case was Zach, whose lack of enthusiasm for basketball led to a record setting seven straight games played in blue jeans. Despite this, I tried everything I could to mould his raw potential by waking him in the night dressed as the ghost of John Stockton, just as Mergim had done to inspire me.
I also tried more iron fisted methods. Implementing a no dessert and straight to bed after supper policy, which failed as I lacked the means to enforce it. And perhaps more importantly, because the idea of a grown man controlling their adult son’s bed time — and I’m quoting — made his parents “monstrously uncomfortable.”
But despite my inadequacies, I still consider this season a success for many reasons. First and foremost, our playoff run that landed us in the championship game. I’m also proud of my work forming the “Susan Be Dancing, See?” cheer group. Whose angry disposition and cutting critique of the heteronormative aspects of sports, helped teach us that a woman’s place isn’t on the sideline. And of course, being personally responsible for an increase in bounce passing and fundamentals, while bringing goofing around and fun of all types to an all-time low.
I would have loved to build on these accomplishments, but this job was never meant to be permanent. I must move on to greater things, selling sunglasses and novelty t-shirts at the Kiosk in the mall. However, my absence doesn’t mean this team can’t build on what I’ve done.
Moving forward — if they wish to succeed — they must only accept volunteers who meet certain physical standards. They must demand larger wingspans, higher verticals and broader shoulders from anyone wishing to write for the paper. They must replace pizzas and takeout food with a high protein gruel, rich in minerals essential for leaping and pivoting. And most importantly they must make Mergim’s essay, “Five Jazzy Tips That Will Help You in Basketball, Fashion and Marriage” essential reading, for all players wishing to increase their basketball IQ.
In doing so, I hope that one day it is impossible to say “Division Three Rec League Basketball” and not think of the Gateway.
