LIFESTYLE
There was something very special about looking in the stands and always seeing my dad staring right back at me. I’ll give you some backstory about him to help you understand his impact on my life. Until I was about 16 or so, this guy was literally unbeatable at damn near everything. He was not only blessed with extraordinary athletic ability, but the man is also a tactical genius. Forget my friends, this guy was the guy to beat – he was the boss at the end of every game. The best thing about having a young father is being able to play sports with him while he’s actually still good. I don’t think there is a better trash talker out there than my dad. That guy can make you feel like nothing without even saying much at all; it’s less about what he says, and more about how he looks at you when you’re losing. I will gladly thank my dad for this competitive asshole gene I now also possess. Constantly having my dad watch my games gave me confidence on another level – I was never intimidated playing anyone my age because of him. The way I saw it, if I was consistently competing against my dad both physically and mentally, a kid my age was a joke.
I moved back to Mississauga from Scarborough in grade 8, which put me in a bit of a situation. I only played one year of basketball at Valleys Public School, leaving me clueless about which high school I would attend the following year. I had no knowledge about the basketball culture here since I didn’t grow up in Mississauga during my middle school years. However, what I did know was that I didn’t want to attend a high school that made me wear a uniform – pretty much any Catholic school. I ended up enrolling at Erindale Secondary School, the closest school to my house for convenience, but I had no idea about their sports programs at all. I quickly discovered that Erindale was a very mediocre school when it came to any athletics – great.
I’ve come to realize that I have a very stubborn mindset, especially when it comes to sports. When given the choice of winning on a great team or losing on a bad team, I tend to choose the latter. I feel this perspective stems from my childhood and the necessity to work for everything that I have. I don’t receive a sense of accomplishment or happiness when things are given to me easily; I believe when things are earned, people have a greater understanding of appreciation. My high school basketball career at Erindale was not an easy path at all, but I wouldn’t change a thing.
I made it my mission to make a name for myself not only at my school, but in the city as well. Something I’ve learned about people is that they will always try to find a way to discredit your success – you also should never take it personally. The more ”Ryan Malcolm-Campbell” came up in basketball conversations, the more people would bring up “well he’s at a shit school.” Sure that’s fine – but I’m still better than you. I’ve never been affected by opinions of people that have no relevance in my daily life. People are given mouths to talk with, so I never concerned myself with those distractions – I just kept making my name bigger.
My dad was a football superstar when he was in high school – he attended Port Credit first, then finished at Clarkson and left a name at both schools wearing #22. He received NCAA scholarship offers from various schools, but had to turn them all down because of… Well because of me – he had me. He’s never resented me or made me feel as if he regretted his decision to stay; but there was a part of me that felt I owed him for choosing to be a great father. I would play football with him all the time for fun, but had never played tackle football in my life – basketball was always my focus. Entering my grade 10 year at Erindale, he asked me why I didn’t try out for the football team in grade 9; I told him I was scared to get hurt and not be able to play basketball. He basically told me to stop being a pussy; in nicer words of course, but I knew what he meant. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t care about their opinion; but I told you about my dad already, and I refuse to let him beat me at anything – even psychologically. So guess what I did that year? I tried out for the football team.
You would think having a father who works out religiously and is built like an NFL player would motivate me to work out – nope. I genuinely hate lifting weights. I have been blessed with a great metabolism and a lean body type, so I have always been content with my size. My dad played running back in his day, so I guess his size was justified for that position; me on the other hand, I was a lanky receiver who preferred being able to close my arms at my sides.
To accelerate this a bit, after making the team I played back up receiver in grade 10, took the starting spot in grade 11, and was selected as a team captain by grade 12. I started to grow a love for football almost as close as the love I had for basketball – but not quite. Fortunately, we actually had a great football team which allowed me to accept the fact I would never win a basketball championship at Erindale, but a football championship was within reach. Our team offense was mostly running-based, but whenever we needed to throw the ball, I was our first option – I took pride in catching anything thrown my way.
We made some great playoff runs and came close my first couple years playing, but still fell short of a championship. This left grade 12 as my last chance to bring home a trophy. We had no issue making playoffs that year and we all refused to settle for anything less than a championship. After a great season and playoff run, there it was staring us right in the face – the championship game against our rivals, Loyola. This game probably meant more to me than anyone else on the team. Since I was one of the few players playing both basketball and football each year, beating Loyola was very personal for me. I have never beat Loyola’s basketball team my entire high school career, so beating their football team in the finals would fill this void just fine. I will never forget this game. I will never forget this feeling. I was finally a champion.