The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
Back on the rez, I was a decent player, I guess. A rebounder and a guy who could run up and down the floor without tripping. But something magical happened to me when I went to Reardan.
Overnight, I became a good player.
I suppose it had something to do with confidence. I mean, I'd always been the lowest Indian on the reservation totem pole – I wasn't expected to be good so I wasn't. But in Reardan, my coach and the other players wanted me to be good. They needed me to be good. They expected me to be good.
And so I became good.
I wanted to live up to expectations.
I guess that's what it comes down to.
The power of expectations. (23.5-23.10)
"I can do it," I said to Coach, to my teammates, to the world.
"You can do it," Coach said.
"I can do it."
"You can do it."
"I can do it."
Do you understand how amazing it is to hear that from an adult? Do you know how amazing it is to hear that from anybody? It's one of the simplest sentences in the world, just four words, but they're the four hugest words in the world when they're put together.
You can do it.
I can do it.
Let's do it. (25.135-25.143)
Yep, if I believe in magic, in ghosts, then I think maybe I was rising on the shoulders of my dead grandmother and Eugene, my dad's best friend. Or maybe I was rising on my mother and father's hopes for me.
I don't know what happened.
But for once, and for the only time in my life, I jumped higher than Rowdy.
I rose above him as he tried to dunk it.
I TOOK THE BALL RIGHT OUT OF HIS HANDS. (25.185-25.189)