John Stockton autobiography

Growing up, I loved basketball.

I loved the Utah Jazz.

And I loved John Stockon. Even with his classic short shorts.

He was someone I looked up to and even decided one year that I was going to be the first woman to play for the Jazz. Ha, ha. That makes me laugh now, as you can see my basketball career didn't go far. In fact it didn't make it past the 10th grade.

That didn't deter me from really enjoying watching Stock play. He was an outstanding player on and off the court. He had values and morals that a lot of professional athletes didn't seem to exhibit.

His autobiography reaffirmed everything I ever thought about him. He really is one of those rare athletes who had/has his head on straight. His determination and work ethic are something remarkable. I told Erik that if he wants to become better at basketball, John Stockton's book is a must read.

Some of my favorite excerpts from his book:
 
No preparation means no foundation to build on in the future. Additionally, it is hard to build character or inner strength without demanding regimes, hard work, and trying times on the practice floor. Often, in today's models of equal playing time without reference to practice or performance standards, I think kids are robbed of valuable tools to confront life's real circumstances. Competitive athletics should be a metaphor for life's real circumstances. In today's world, we seem to be skewing the relationship to our children's disadvantage by making rules that bypass the investment and go directly to the dividends. If everyone gets a trophy, the only winners are the fragile egos of the parents.

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I learned that self-esteem . . . cannot be given. Self-confidence is earned by accomplishing things through your own efforts -- things previously beyond your reach.

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There's no better venue for enhancing your mental toughness than long-distance running. Pitted against a competitor who wants to win as much as you, the race often become a game of cat and mouse. To win you must push, stretch, deny, and reconfirm your own limits in order to go beyond those of your opponent. With no teammates and no obstacles, your heart and preparation are all that stand between victory and breaking. Each moment on the verge of surrender, you press a little harder until the other runner fails to respond. It's a battle as much against yourself as your opponent. Winning a long-distance race is a mental, as well as a physical, triumph -- which is tough to achieve in any arena.

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[Nada] posses countless talents that remain anonymous outside of our home because she values motherhood above all else.  . . . Basketball wasn't the only important thing in the world. That realization, ironically, helped me play more relaxed and, in turn, play better. Many more changes would greet me as I blended my career as a member of the Jazz with my young, growing family's needs. As I have already indicated, the foundations given to me by my parents have proved invaluable. I enjoy being a dad. Being a good parent, however, is a challenge. I haven't always succeeded. But meeting that obligation is far more important to me than being a good basketball player ever was. Along with Nada and our children, I will keep working at making the family better tomorrow than it was today.

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The team culture, which for years had nicely folded in older and younger players, changed abruptly after Horny retired. In his absence I reached out to some of the newcomers but with little success. The "'90s guys, " as we jokingly called them, had new-age distractions and interests. It increasingly seemed to me that electronic gadgets had virtually eliminated the need to get to know teammates. The young players brought their friends and family along on road trips, housed inside tiny electronic devices. These players engaged with them in solitude inside the confines of earphoned technology. The trips and bus rides became lonely affairs. Camaraderie gave way to comfortable high-tech isolation.