Sacrifices

Keep your head down. Do the work.

Those are the words that repeat in my head every day when I wake up at 4 AM to head down to the outdoor basketball court by my house. Those are the words that my father always reminded me of when he was still around. Dad was killed in a car accident 4 years ago when I was just 13. Since then my older brother went down a path of drugs and crime. I still see him from time to time but nothing quite sticks in my head the way Dad's word will forever.

"Jackson, you don't have to be the best at something in order to work hard. You have to keep your head down and do the work. You have to be disciplined enough to get up and put in the time. Other kids get it naturally. If you want to earn your spot. Do the work in front of you. "

I always did just that. I was a potential NBA prospect before I even went into high-school. My coaches told me I was always the one who gave the most effort and left it all on the floor. I never let things going on off the floor distract me from getting the job done for my team mates. I was that kid. I did what was best for the team. Took the big shots. Passed the ball to open teammates. I put my body on the line to win those games. When everyone else said they were done for the night I stayed at the gym putting up shot after shot to improve on where I struggled.

It kept me off the streets. It kept me grounded. It gave me a purpose and a mission. A goal to say I earned this every step of the way and no damn body was gonna tell me otherwise. It was easy in our town to get caught up in drugs and gang violence as a means to get by. My brother often offered to pull us out based on his latest side hustle but Mama refused. She would never take drug money because Dad always kept us out. She loved Devon anyway but her relationship with him was fractured. It would never repair itself until Devon either gave up that life or was taken from her and she could finally stop worrying about his ass every damn night. I know to many people that sounded mean and self absorbed but Devon gave her many sleepless nights she didn't deserve nor did she ask for.

It was the day of my championship game. The last time I would ever really be a kid before I was thrown into the national spotlight. I prepared the same way I always do. Wake up early, hit the court by 430 and practice until 6. Head home, shit shower and shave kiss my Mama goodbye and make my way to school. Mama always said she never needed to worry about me getting caught up in violence because it would let down my teammates. It was more than that. I just don't want to be another statistic. I don't want to cause my Mama more heartbreak over stupid choices. I would rather live poor than just give into the easy money and it all came back to Dad's words. Keep your head down. Do the work. It was also a mantra repeated in the music I chose to listen to. Rap was my pregame music. A lot of the stars came from this very life. This very struggle. They got it and rose above it.

It was an electric experience that night at the game. I got a text from my brother saying he would be unable to make it because he had an errand to run but he would meet up with me after to grab dinner and talk about the game. I chose not to respond to my brother because I was in game mode and honestly this was typical Devon. Always missing out for a drug score or women. He had vices and he always let them get the better of him.

I went off that night. Setting a school record for points with 48, assists with 17 and rebounds with 16. It was also our school's only ever recorded triple double. All that aside we lost the game by a single missed shot. I elected to pass the ball and TJ Marks missed the three to win. I took him into an embrace as soon as the shot missed. We had been teammates and best friends since Grade 5 basketball. TJ felt awful. I held him in a brotherly embrace. It was okay to cry in sports. It just meant you cared. TJ cried on my shoulder before going to receive hugs from his family. Coach thanked me for the best 4 years of his career and joked that he should retire alongside the greatest player the school has ever seen. I told him to keep going and give more kids like me inspiration.

All of that could cause anyone to choose the easier path of money and drugs. It would take away the sting of loss but it wouldn't prepare me for the next big moment when someone would count on me. I figured Devon wouldn't show and I was right. So while I sat there eating a piece of chocolate cake and drinking a root beer float (this was always dad's treat after a big game) I knew that my life experiences would guide me through college and would eventually give Mama what she deserved.

That's why I write this college essay from the heart. I have nothing else to offer but myself. Just like my dad always taught me. I promise to be a good student by keeping my head down and doing the work. Whatever that work is. I may not get the top grades or give the big speech at graduation and sometimes I may not always make the game winning shot or even make the right decision to pass the ball but none of that matters more than giving your single greatest effort in anything you do. That's what sets me apart. I will always rise to do the work.