From Swimming to Basketball: The Sport We Didn’t Choose for Him
We never sat down with a piece of paper and a list of sports.
Swimming - good.
Basketball - maybe.
Football - we’ll see.
And then ticked a box at the end: “Done. This is our child’s sport.”
That’s not how it happened.
For a long time, there wasn’t even a question of, “What sport is Sasha going to play?”
There was just movement.
It Started With Water
Sasha started sports very young, through a programme at his nursery, Micii Poznași.
His first real contact with sport was swimming.
Although “real” might be giving those early days a little too much credit.
At first, it was simply water.
Playing. Splashing. Getting comfortable. A small child learning that the pool was not something to be afraid of.
There were no sporting goals.
No competitions.
No discussions about performance.
Gradually, playing became learning.
The swim ring disappeared.
Then came the pool noodle.
Then the kickboard.
And every time one of the things that made him feel safe disappeared, we heard almost the same reaction: “I’m not ready.” or: “I can’t do it yet.”
Until one day, when it was time to swim without the kickboard supporting him.
And instead of “I can’t,” we heard something completely different:
“I’m free! I can do it by myself!”
After that, the question changed too.
It was no longer: “Do I have to go swimming?”
It became: “When is my next training session?”
Then Swimming Became a Sport
At some point, the pool stopped being only the place where he was learning to swim.
Training came next.
Then goals.
Then competitions.
Gradually.
And, inevitably, there were days when things were no longer quite so simple.
I remember one of them very clearly.
We had arrived at the pool after a long drive when Sasha said:
“I don’t want to train today.”
It was the first time he had refused to get into the water.
I didn’t push him towards the pool.
But I didn’t turn around and take him home either.
I simply said: “That’s okay. But we’ve come all the way here. Go and speak to your coach and tell him yourself that you don’t want to train today.”
His coach at the time, Lucian from Kineto Fix Bucharest, spoke with him.
About ten minutes later, Sasha came back.
“I’m training today.”
I don’t know exactly what they said to each other.
And, in a way, it didn’t really matter.
The decision hadn’t come from me.
Then Came Competition
After a while, Sasha started asking: “When do I get to compete?”
That was how we moved towards more performance-focused training.
Different exercises.
A different rhythm.
And, inevitably, different frustrations.
During one training session, he was given an exercise he simply could not do.
He tried.
Then tried again.
And again.
After about ten minutes, the frustration became too much and he started to cry.
Lucian didn’t tell him to keep trying another ten times.
He told him that was enough for the day and that they would see each other at the next training session.
At the next session, Sasha did the exercise.
No big ceremony.
Sometimes things happen exactly like that.
At first, they don’t work.
Then one day, they do.
Swimming continued.
There were competitions and medals.
At one point, Sasha wanted to win a gold medal in an individual event. He already had medals from relay races, but this was a different challenge.
He worked for it.
And eventually, he won one.
At that stage, if someone had asked me what sport Sasha played, the obvious answer would have been simple:
Swimming.
Except that somewhere in the background of the story, a ball had appeared.
A Small Hoop in His Room
When Sasha was around three or four, he had also been given a small basketball hoop for his room.
It wasn’t some strategic investment in his sporting future.
It was a hoop.
That was all.
Sometimes he would shoot on his own.
Sometimes we played together.
By then, we had accumulated an impressive collection of balls from different sports, as probably happens in many families with children who simply enjoy moving.
Nothing suggested that a change of direction was coming.
Until one day in the park.
Sasha was holding a ball and said: “Let’s play basketball.”
I looked around. “But we don’t have a hoop.”
His answer came immediately: “We’ll play with an imaginary hoop.”
So we did.
No backboard.
No net.
No proper court.
Just us, a ball and a hoop that nobody could see but that was apparently real enough for the game.
The First Thing for the Garden
A few months later, we moved into a new house.
At some point, I asked him: “What’s the first thing you want us to buy for the garden?”
He didn’t need any time to think: “A basketball hoop.”
So the hoop arrived.
Then came the shots.
One.
Ten.
A hundred.
Nobody counted.
Basketball started finding its way into his routine without anyone formally inviting it in.
Eventually, we thought: What if he tried playing at a club?
Not because swimming had to stop.
Not because we had suddenly discovered some extraordinary talent.
Simply because he enjoyed playing.
We asked him.
He wanted to try.
So he went.
Then Came the First Game
At first, basketball was still just play.
Then came regular training.
After more than a year came his first game.
Then his first tournament.
Four games.
Four losses.
And Sasha scored one basket in the entire tournament.
If you had looked only at the scoreboard, it probably wasn’t the beginning of a great basketball love story.
It wasn’t even a particularly promising start.
Four losses.
Two points.
That was pretty much it.
After the tournament, however, there was no complicated conversation about results.
No analysis.
No “we’ll have to see.”
Sasha simply said: “Basketball. That’s what I want to play.”
And That Was When We Knew
I don’t know whether there was one single reason.
There hadn’t been an idol who made him choose basketball.
There was no cinematic moment when he watched a game and declared: “That’s what I want to become.”
We hadn’t guided him towards basketball with a plan.
Basketball simply appeared.
First as a small hoop in his room.
Then as a game in a park, played with an imaginary basket.
Later as a real hoop in the garden.
Then a training session.
A game.
A tournament.
Four losses.
One basket.
And somewhere between all of those moments, something happened.
Swimming had already given him years of movement, training, competitions and experiences.
Basketball asked something different of him.
And he wanted to stay.
We didn’t choose the moment.
We didn’t choose the sport.
We were simply there when his choice started becoming visible.
And in the end, the whole thing fitted into one sentence: “Basketball. That’s what I want to play.”
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