As a stereotypical Filipino boy,
basketball found me early.
On dusty courts.
On improvised rings.
On borrowed shoes.
On afternoons that felt endless.
We were glued to the TV.
Watching Kobe Bryant’s fadeaway.
Shaquille O'Neal’s dominance.
Peja Stojaković’s smooth jumper.
Allen Iverson’s fearless drives.
When the game ended,
I grabbed my controller
and opened 2K.
I played as Kobe.
Led the Los Angeles Lakers.
Hit buzzer-beaters
that echoed through our living room.
It wasn’t just a game.
It was rehearsal.
Practice for a dream
I didn’t know how to reach yet,
but refused to let go of.
Years later,
I finally walked into
Staples Center.
A place that once felt
impossibly far away
and impossibly expensive.
The same court I grew up watching.
The same floor
where legends became memories.
Only this time,
I wasn’t watching from a screen.
I was there.
And it wasn’t Kobe anymore.
It was LeBron James
leading the Lakers.
New era.
Same heartbeat.
When the lights dimmed
and the crowd roared,
I felt every version of myself
in that moment.
The kid waking up early in Manila.
The teenager holding a controller.
The man finally living the dream.
All in one seat.
All at once.
That’s when it hit me:
Dreams don’t chase you.
You move toward them.
Step by step.
Sacrifice by sacrifice.
Decision by decision.
So grind.
Get that visa.
Book that ticket.
Take the risk.
Live the story
you’ve only seen on screen.
Because dreams aren’t meant
to stay dreams.
They’re meant to be felt.
Courtside.
In real life.