Growing up in Manila, watching NBA was a morning ritual.
We were glued to the TV, watching Kobe’s fadeaway, Shaq’s dominance, Stojaković’s smooth jumper, and Iverson’s fearless drives.
Pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who has the ESPN theme song etched in his head.
That tune meant greatness was about to begin.
It meant I’d be late for class again.
When the game ended, I’d grab my controller and play 2K to continue the dream.
I’d play as Kobe, lead the Lakers, and hit buzzer-beaters that echoed through our living room.
It wasn’t just a game. It was a practice in believing that somehow, someday, I’d stand in that same energy.
Years later, I finally walked into Staples Center.
The same court I used to see on screen.
The same floor where legends became memories.
But this time, it wasn’t Kobe anymore.
It was LeBron leading the Lakers.
New era, but same heartbeat.
When the lights dimmed and the crowd roared, I felt every version of myself in that moment.
The kid watching from a small TV in Manila.
The teenager holding a controller.
The man finally seeing it all, live.
Dreams don’t chase you back.
You move toward them.
So grind.
Get that visa.
Book that ticket.
Live the story you’ve only seen on screen.
Dreams aren't meant to be dreams.
They’re meant to be felt.
Courtside, in real life.
While others are sleeping and “dreaming,” grind and make it come alive.