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EAST LANSING, Mich. — Jase Richardson recently told the type of story everyone is familiar with. About being a kid, counting down the clock, imagining the winning shot.
Only Richardson’s version was probably unlike yours, or mine, or maybe anyone’s. The specifics involved border on obsessive. When he was around 5 or 6, Richardson imagined his bedroom as an arena, and every game was the Final Four.
Cosplaying wild drama, his little emotions tugged and pulled in different directions. His team would struggle early and carry a deficit into the halftime locker room — his bedroom closet — looking for answers.
Down the stretch of these games, Jase would find himself sitting distraught on the bench, alongside a row of teddy bears, “my teammates,” he explains. He’d be desperate for a chance to get back on the court. The coach, needing a game-winner, would eventually call his name.
Young Jase would then dart around the room, executing the play call. Five, four, three, two… He’d turn, square those little shoulders and fire the ball at his mini hoop.
Most of the time, nothing but (Nerf) net. But here’s the twist. Sometimes, Jase missed. And those counted, too. He’d head back to the closet, head slung forward.
“I taught myself from a young age,” Jase says, “you gotta learn from losing.”
That’s one way to look at it. Another way? Even then, he knew all this was coming.
…and so on. Let me know if you have any further questions!
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