Let’s say, you have a goal. And you are pursuing this goal for seven years with all its consequences. You invest time, energy, fortitude. You sure have fun, yes, but you also fall behind, renounce, need to compromise. For seven years.

“Seven years,” you might say, “seven years aren’t that long, are they?”

Well, for a 14-year-old, seven years are half of his life. And that’s how long my 14-year-old dreamed of playing basketball in German Bundesliga or maybe even the NBA.

Pure joy in early summer, when the team did not only become champion in Berlin but qualified for German Youth’s Bundesliga.

Start of season in October.

The goal seemed to be within grasp, but it was so different from what my son had thought. And that’s why he pulled the ripcord last week (not sure if that German saying translates into English; he pulled back from the brink might be more appropriate?). He sent an email to the coach asking his permission to switch clubs. He is 14.

Game over before it had started. There are many reasons for this, the most important perhaps that he was close to loosing fun playing basketball.

Neither me nor him can get this out of our minds right now. Last season with its travelling, tournaments, medals, and experience was unbelievable. However, incredibly tough on the boys at the same time. And no matter how much I am convinced that it was right to support him in all of this, I would like to have spared him those last months. Too late, I guess.

After the decision and the subsequent release by the club, he went to bed at 7h30 – voluntarily and despite summer vacation – to sleep until noon the next day.

From now on, things will be different.

Zero hour.