Why Interstellar?

Basketball has always been more than just a game to me—it was a way of life. Ever since I took it seriously in the 5th grade, I committed myself to long hours in the gym, endless drills, and pushing myself past my limits. Every day was about getting better, whether it was early morning workouts before school or late-night shooting sessions long after everyone else had gone home. I understood early on that success wasn’t handed out; it was earned through hard work, sacrifice, and discipline. I thrived on that grind, knowing that every extra rep and every drop of sweat was bringing me closer to my dream.

But as I got older, things started to change. By the time I reached my senior year of high school, the game that once brought me so much joy started to feel different. Yes, we made it to the state championship. Yes, we were winning the AAU tournaments, but the pressure to perform, the expectations, and the politics of the sport began to overshadow the love I had for it. I wasn’t playing for the same reasons anymore, and that fire inside me started to burn out. The game that once felt like home now felt like a burden, and eventually, I walked away from it. For years, I drifted, no longer feeling the same passion that had driven me for so long.

It wasn’t until I was given the opportunity to be the head coach of the 8th-grade Shiloh boys’ basketball team that I felt that fire again. Coaching those young players, seeing their excitement and hunger to learn, reminded me of why I fell in love with basketball in the first place. It wasn’t just about the wins and losses—it was about the journey, the development, and the lessons the game teaches along the way. Their energy reignited something in me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt connected to the game again. But as I continued coaching and observing the younger generation, I started to notice a shift.

Kids today don’t seem to have the same drive and hunger that I grew up with. Many of them don’t understand what it truly means to grind—to push through adversity, to put in extra hours when no one is watching, to embrace the struggle that comes with chasing a dream. Since moving to Parma, OH, I’ve also noticed that the basketball scene here isn’t in a great place for young kids trying to learn the game. The foundation isn’t there, and the culture doesn’t seem to prioritize the type of work ethic that builds great players. It’s frustrating to see so much untapped potential go to waste, but at the same time, it fuels me to step in and make a difference. I know what it takes to succeed in this game, and now, my focus is on helping the next generation develop that same mindset. I want to create an environment where kids can fall in love with the process, embrace the grind, and truly understand what it means to work for something bigger than themselves.