When I was 13, my family underwent a restructure of sorts. Upper management felt that it was best for everyone if the organisation split off into two directions, and owing to financial constraints, both parties relocated. Ergo, the home I grew up in was no longer my home. I thought my heart would break. It didn’t. But it was a difficult time. We had lived in that house for 8 years, and I had also gone to the same Catholic school for all that time. Public high school was looming, and though I had a terrible time in my elementary/middle school, I didn’t know anything else, so I was more than a little apprehensive about what was to come. It was the end of so many things and I was frightened; it was also the beginning of many wonderful things, but when we’re fixated on the past, it’s very hard to turn our attention to the future.
Three years later, across a continent and over a rather large “pond”, C, having recently discovered basketball, was being discovered himself. It’s not every day in France you find a decent 6’7″ 16 year-old baller. And so it was that he was recruited to a team near Saint Etienne and moved away from the home into which he was born.