A simple basketball drill one day my senior year cemented a once shaky principle into my mind.  

Coach Chakeres, our head boys’ basketball coach throughout my time at Santa Fe Prep, filled in for my teammate during a drill one night my senior season. The drill: passing the basketball back and forth with as much change of pace and location as possible. One pass was a bullet by the ears, the next might be a lob down to the feet. The exact details of the drill, however, really aren’t important.

Right off the bat, Chakeres unexpectedly put his left hand, behind his back and told me, “I want to see how you do it”, referring to the way I had adapted to my disability, playing the game essentially one-handed. Coach was always challenging himself in some bizarre way, but he had never done something like this before in front of me and I was a little shocked.

The drill was difficult for both of us, but with more experience using just one hand, I caught more of the balls thrown my way. But he had caught some, and I was quite impressed with his awkward catches. It was neat to see that Chakeres wanted to play from my perspective…nobody had every done that in front of me before. He just laughed at the end and said something like, “It’s a bit harder than I thought. I don’t know how you do it.” 

In some twisted way, though, I must admit that it was nice to see him struggle as much as I had when I learned to play, validation that, despite my disability, I was doing the best that I could. 

I had no problems with what he did. Coach meant this act merely in the best possible manner, as if he wanted a way to open his perspective a bit. HOWEVER… there was no way I would have done that if I were in his position. Not under any circumstances.

I had worked way too hard to get where I was, I thought. Why would anybody want to level the playing field when we both know that it shouldn’t be? Overcoming my cerebral palsy, playing with one hand against able-bodied players actually made any success that much more fun and rewarding. I’m sure that my disability and my desire to escape it were two of the major reasons that sparked my athletic interest in the first place.

I learned early that the world wasn’t going to all of a sudden change for me, and basketball provided me a way to prove my physical worth, often a point of insecurity for me. If everybody played against me like my coach had during the drill, basketball would have no longer been fun. I enjoyed having my back constantly against the wall, having to fight my to success “harder than everybody else.” 

I wondered why he would give up his skill in the way he had to make an obscure point. It made no sense to me, and throughout the drill I was wondering how Coach was going to twist this one into a philosophical metaphor. He didn’t; rather it was me that placed meaning to it later.

At the time, it was just another drill. However, reflecting upon it, the experience did unexpectedly and quite subtly, prove something to me, something that I am sure Coach didn’t even intend. If he could make himself “as disabled” as I was by merely putting his arm behind his back, with some success, then really what was my disability? In my mind it helped reassure me that it was something escapable: nothing but a setback or a weakness, an obstacle to hurdle. 

Everybody has a million setbacks, and my disability is just one of my many that have arisen. The approach to these obstacles, and not the nature of them, is what defines success. You must confront this issue head-on for it ever to “go away”; avoiding the issue merely prolongs it. Find your means to change the overwhelming circumstances and make the best out of what you’re given.

A weakness may always be a weakness, but it can become much stronger and help you much more than before. 

My right hand is still weaker than my left, but it now can hold cups and hold plates…vast improvements than before. More than that, though, I can say that my cerebral palsy has kept me driven, and I’ve always had a slight chip on my shoulder, merely making me even more dedicated. It was all through basketball that any of this happened.

Any weakness will become what you want it to be. You must remember that life is one big choice. The choice is yours to make, for better or for worse.

So I ask you: What is your “disability” and how will you make it work for you?

The Think Alive Foundation is Tim Enfield's "way to give back and help other disabled youth achieve." Now a Sports Management major at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst, Tim's credits his inner belief for his successes. This belief and self confidence that slowly have erased the "wall" between Tim and the able-bodied community. His cerebral palsy consequently has become less and less of a hindrance on his life, and now, it doesn't dominate his life as it once did.

While he has been fortunate to live a relatively normal life and be an active participant in nearly all activities, he realized that due to financial pressures, low self esteem, and physical barriers, many disabled children aren't as lucky.

His answer, The Think Alive Foundation, is a non-profit organization dedicated to providing a financial means, through scholarships and achievement grants, for the driven young adult to see beyond a disability and allow them to discover the courage needed to realize a dream. By instilling faith within these individuals, the Think Alive Foundation utilizes a personal approach to enable resourceful adolescents to attain limitless triumph when they vigorously pursue a goal and challenges them to aspire and strive toward something others deem impossible.