A DAY TO REMEMBER

When I created the Middle Finger, I pomised myself that I would always keep it TRILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAA., I would say what I felt and make it always be raw. I'd open up and show parts of me that many don't know. I'd radiate the Freedom that I have within myself to try and shed light and bring light to others. So this Blog may be pretty straight forward for some of the normal readers. It may sting you in your got dang mouth and make you bleed. If it does... don't spit it out... Lick the blood. Taste it... Embrace it, enjoy it. It's Freedom.


One thing I want people to take from the Middle Finger is not to block out the bad of you. The parts that you don't want others to know because it makes you seem as if you ain't perfect. You already know that you aren't. When I speak of the blood metaphor as bleeding as freedom, it's not to gross you out. It's to enhance what you are and what you can be. I remember a basketball game I played back in HS and I took a shot in the mouth from a guy and my mouth started bleeding. The dude intentionally meant to hurt me becuase he knew he couldn't stop my TRILLA. He had some sense of accomplishment in his face as I wiped the blood from my mouth. However, it didn't last. I looked him dead in the eye, smiled, and licked it right off my hand and said to him, "That's all you got? MuthF***a, buried my momma at 8 years old, it's going to take more than that weak ass shyt to stop me." I went on to score about 25 points from that point on and we easily won the game. See I couldn't give him that satisfaction. Not even for a second ....that he had enough control over my life to hold me down. If I would have went out of the game to wipe my mouth, or shed tears or showed any type of weakness in that one moment, he would have felt as if he won. As if he got the better of me. That was a gift to him that I could not give.


I'd been through TOO much in my life. I'd been knocked down too many times... I'd been doubted far too often... Been told that my dreams were too big, too bold. Laughed at, scoffed at, ridiculed for believing in a belief that was instilled in me as a child. You may ask youself, "You got all that from an elbow?" YES. I did. Because that was a moment in my life that I can go back to like a DVR and relive over and over when I need to recall that type of strength. That resolve. That Grit, that determination, that perserverance, that victory.

Now being a basketball coach of HS kids, I often tell them stories of when I was Mr. Basketball for Kentucky in 1997. The feeling. How I erupted into tears at the end of my speech because I remembered all the work I put in. All the sacrifices I made, the times where I shot jumpshots until I couldn't lift my arms. The times where my father, who would come home drunk after a night out of not dealing with his issues would awaken me from bed at 2 am to go to the park in the Freezing cold to do dribble work. To make my left hand stronger. To be able to succeed in any element. Snow, Rain, Wind. To deal with the triumphs when they came, and to be man enough to take the blame, even when it wasn't my fault. They ask, "why did you cry coach Dav, weren't you happy???" I replied, "Yes, that is exactly why I did. It was the tangiable reward for my dedication and my belief in myself and what God had told me." That was the truth. I cried because I was thankful. Because if it wasn't for the pain of seeing Cancer destroy my mother's body day by day. If it wasn't for seeing my eldest sisters tears as her best friend started her transition from one world into the next. If my father didn't abuse alcohol and frustrate me at times with his constant pushing me towards an aspiration of search to find perfection in a round ball and a metal hoop, I might not be who I am today.


A reporter asked me after I finished that speech, "I've seen you play and you play with such passion, such fury, it's like you explode right before my eyes... What drives you to go all out like that?" I replied with two words. "The Pain" He looked at me kind of like, "What". And I recall myself as a cocky 18 year old just nodding and repeating what I said. "It's the pain." A night when my team lost a game my Sophomore year, and I played like crap, my father came home in a drunken anger and threw my clothes on me as I slept and said, "Get up, you have work to do" I refused. I was one of the top Sophomores in the state of Kentucky. I didn't feel like working. I didn't feel like pushing. I was becoming satisfied. I'll never forget he grabbed me by my face, and said, "Get your ass up, Now, boy, I'm still your daddy" Back during a time where Daddy's were still daddy's..


Even in his drunken stooper, I drove us to the park at 1:15 am in freaking January with no jacket and short sleeves. He took my jacket from me. He told me, "FEEL THE COLD. EMBRACE it as part of you... and it won't bother you." I shivered as I shot jump shot after jump shot... I wasn't making a lot because I couldn't focus... I was angry... How dare I have to go through this. I've worked hard. I've sacificed. Why isn't my world working out as planned? Why am I suffering? Why are my friends in bed sleep and my father has to be drunk and yelling at me about arch on my shot. Why can't I just be free? And I remembered I cried.


I was hurting...so much inside. I wanted to just let it all out and shatter my molecules into a million different directions. I just dropped the ball. I looked at my father and said, two words that he told me never to say, " I quit".My father screamed at me, and said, "Boy, what is your last name?" I kept walking..... Step, Step, Step.... "Boy", he said louder... "WHAT IS YOUR LAST NAME" My steps became shorter and shorter but I kept moving forward. When i got about 25 feet from him he screamed, "SON, WHAT IS YOUR LAST NAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And I whirled around with tears in my eyes and yelled back, "DAVENPORT!!!" with all the force that I could muster left in my body.... I remember breathing, in, out, in out, and seeing the frost appear and then Vanish... and then it clicked in me.


I saw my mother, in tears on her deathbed telling me, "Son, make a noise so loud on Earth, that I will hear it in Heaven" I saw my grandfather working in a Country Club being spit on and embarrassed and have to turn the other cheek and remain humble and meek so that he could put food on my father's plate as well as his siblings. I saw my father's battle with alcohol which stemmed from so much but ultimately because he felt that He didn't live up to his talents to make our lives as easy as possible. I saw the joy he had when he saw me succeed. So I was standing there with all these thoughts running though my head, thinking, "I am a Davenport... I can't quit." The next moment is something that is something every father should share with his son. My father, looked me square in the eye and said, "You now know what it takes to be a man. To be able reach inside of you when you don't feel as if anything was there. I'm hard on you because the world is going to be harder. I'm preparing you. THE ONLY WAY THAT I KNOW HOW."


And that was all that needed to be said... We went home and my father told me before I went to sleep, he was proud of me. There were quite a few nights like that during my last few years at home....but that one always stuck out in my mind. I go back to it when I feel weary, and tired. When I wanna blame God for things not being perfect. When I make bad choices and have to live with the consequences.... I pull out that January night. Even in my father's death... He still drives me today. What drives you? If you get to rock bottom, how do you get up? When you scream out to God for Him to Carry you over your valley and he only gives you a bridge to walk on, how do you muster the courage to take the first step.


My advice... Use the problems.... the pain. Let it drive you and fuel you like never before to push you to reach aspects that you never dreamed were possible... When you are wounded, don't just lie there and bleed... LICK THE BLOOD. Look at your adversary, and tell it, whatever it may be.... YOU CANT WIN. I WONT LET YOU.... And then, you will be truly FREE.


This is The Middle Finger...telling you two things, The Price of Freedom really ain't free.... And Pain is only temporary, but even in death, a PROUD PARENT lives forever.