By Ace Angaza

Don’s granddad had hands like tree bark—rough, worn, and always carrying the scent of earth. He was a gardener, the kind who didn’t just grow flowers but spoke to them like they were old friends. Every summer since Don could remember, he was forced to tag along and help.

“Whatever you plant will only grow as strong as the soil you place it in, Don,” Granddad would say, patting the dirt like it was gold. “And that’s not just about gardening—it’s about life. Protect your soil. Feed it right. Watch what you let take root.”

Don always smiled, half-listening, more focused on finishing chores so he could hit the court with his boys. But now, standing at the crossroads of a summer that could change everything, those words clung to him like sweat in July heat.

Tryouts for varsity were in the fall, and everything felt heavy—expectations, pressure, the eyes of coaches watching every game in his AAU league. He was good, no doubt, but good wasn’t good enough. Not in his city. Not with the talent stacked on every corner.

He was on a top-tier AAU team—the kind with custom jerseys, sponsorships, and packed gym bleachers. He’d played with these guys for years. They were family. But deep down, Don couldn’t shake the feeling that he was coasting. Practices felt more like hangouts. Coaches hyped favorites and didn’t push for more.

Then came the call—a coach from a less flashy, grind-heavy AAU team reached out. Smaller team. Tougher practices. No crowds. Just work. It sounded good but the thought of switching teams never seemed like a real possibility for Don. Granddad leaned against the porch railing after hearing the offer, silent at first. Then he looked at Don, eyes wise and steady.

“Sometimes you gotta change the soil, son, if you want something real to grow.”

Don’s chest tightened. Switch teams? Leave his boys? Give up the lights for long practices and no recognition? The idea felt like a betrayal. That night, walking home, Don felt the weight of it all. He could keep doing what he was doing, playing it safe, or… he could bet on himself. It was scary—what if he failed? What if he gave his all and still came up short? But something inside of him stirred. He knew if he wanted different, he had to do different.

And so, Don took his first risk.

Don left the glitz for grit. His old team didn’t get it—friends ghosted him, coaches threw shade, and the group chat went cold. It stung. Bad. But when he walked into that first practice with his new squad, he felt the shift immediately.

No flash. No fluff. Just focus.

The drills were harder. Expectations higher. The coach didn’t play favorites—you earned your spot or you sat down. The players held each other accountable. There was no hiding, no shortcuts.

Don felt himself sweating more, thinking more, growing more.

He started noticing what he was feeding himself—mentally and physically. He woke up earlier, ate cleaner, trained smarter. He stopped wasting hours scrolling and started watching film. He paid attention to who he surrounded himself with, realizing some people water your soil and some just drain it.

He missed his old team sometimes—the laughs, the familiarity—but comfort never taught him much. In this new environment, he wasn’t just a player—he was evolving.

He was inviting change, not because it was easy, but because it was necessary.

One evening after practice, Don sat alone in the locker room. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his jersey clung to his back, but his mind was clear. He wasn’t chasing approval anymore. He wasn’t doing this for coach, for friends, or even for the crowd. He was doing it for himself. He wasn’t just a kid trying to make a basketball team; he was a young man shaping his future, one decision, one habit at a time.

He didn’t need to be the most popular. He needed to be prepared. He didn’t need to fit in. He needed to stand out—in the right ways, for the right reasons.

The summer ended, tryouts arrived.

Don walked into the gym, not with cockiness, but with confidence. Not because he was certain he’d make it, but because he knew he had done the work. Every rep, every late night, every choice—he owned it.

And in that moment, he understood what Granddad meant all along.

Your soil is your foundation. What you feed it, who you let in, how you tend to it—that’s what determines what grows.

Don’s story isn’t about basketball. It’s about life.

Lessons

1.Protect Your Soil

Your environment shapes your growth. Surround yourself with people, habits, and spaces that challenge you, support you, and align with your goals. Not everything deserves to take root in your life.

2. Stars Shine at Night

True growth doesn’t happen under the lights—it’s forged in the unseen hours of focus, discipline, and intentional effort. Consistency behind the scenes is what sets you apart when it’s time to perform.

3. Bet on Yourself

The biggest breakthroughs come when you stop playing for approval and start working for purpose. When you face something that causes doubt or hesitancy, remember to take the chance on yourself. Trust your instincts, honor your work, and believe that you are worth the investment.

The Moral of the Story

Growth is never accidental, it’s intentional. Growth is a choice, made in the small, daily decisions to prioritize purpose over comfort.  It’s not about who watches, who claps, or who doubts—it’s about you showing up for yourself, every day, in every decision. The soil you stand on today determines the future you build tomorrow. Protect it, feed it, and don’t be afraid to change it when your growth demands more.