Slam Dunk vs Layup

I got a basketball hoop when I was around 13. The height on it was adjustable and I would take it down to its lowest height — seven and a half feet — and do my best Jordan impersonation dunking on it. Over the next few years I started to grow and worked on jumping higher. I slowly raised the basket 6 inches at a time and practiced until I could dunk on eight feet, then eight and a half, nine, then nine and a half. Until one fateful day in the summer before my junior year I could finally dunk on a regulation ten foot rim. Just like Mike. Well, not just like Mike, but you know, I could dunk.

I couldn’t get enough of it. I would dunk on the rims at school in between classes, during practice, and during warmups for games. My friends and the other kids at school were impressed — I went to a small Christian school and we never had a player who could dunk. But the big test, the big win would be if I could actually dunk in a game. That was a different story. In a game there were other players and people guarding you. You couldn’t just run down the lane and dunk.

But then one game I saw my chance. The other team shot while I was out around the 3 point line. They missed, we got the rebound, and I ran down the court for a fast break. My friend Jon passed me the ball. I was all alone flying toward the goal, just like in practice. I jumped as high as I could and stretched like MJ at the end of Space Jam. And. I. Dunked.

A few years after marrying Charity, I decided to show her this infamous game and the legendary dunk. She of course had heard the story many times at this point and she at least seemed excited to watch it. So one Christmas at my parents I dug out the old VHS tape and popped it in the VCR. I saw the moment coming up and braced myself. I had the fastbreak, I jumped and…and it really didn’t look like a dunk. Not really. I rewound it and watched again. Yeah, it was more like a pretty solid layup where I maybe touched the rim.

This was a little crushing to me. Because I could swear it was a dunk. It FELT like a dunk. Every time I retold the story and it replayed in my head it WAS a dunk. But there was the video of a skinny, lanky, less coordinated me, at the peak of my vertical, doing a pretty solid layup.

This wasn’t the last time I had this feeling — the feeling that what I could do or what I had done was greater than it actually was. I’ve written and performed pieces, set my goals on work projects, or strived to express myself in relationships many times when I really thought I was going to nail it. I really thought it would be a slam dunk. And I would be somewhat successful or it would be fairly well received but it wasn’t as grand as I thought it would be. I was more like a pretty solid layup.

Over the years, I’ve gotten more ok with that. That’s not to say I’ve settled for less or that I don’t push myself. I still try to. Just as much as that 13 year old kid kept pushing himself to jump higher. But I’ve learned that most of the time you can give it your all and do the best you can and it’s just not going to be a slam dunk. But that isn’t a reason to give up. On the contrary, it’s a reason to strive harder. But also it’s a chance to accept the beauty of a well practiced, well placed layup while you continue to work on your dunk.

I haven’t been able to dunk for years. I put on a few pounds in college and quit playing as often and my jump slowly regressed. But I do still rarely pass a basketball hoop without jumping to touch the rim. Most days I can. But I’m pretty forgiving of myself on the days that I can’t. And I think that’s healthy. I probably will never dunk again but I’m pretty sure I’ve still got a few hundred decent layups in me.

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