“It popped. It popped. It popped.”

Laying in the middle of the court screaming, I held my left knee, hitting the floor in rage. Crying, knowing my ACL was torn. Knowing I worked my butt off all season for this senior year. Knowing it was over.

Playing at Lawndale High School, I was expecting to have a good season for my senior year. I had grinded all summer long – just to get hurt.

I didn’t give up, though. I finished the season, going from a starter to coming off the bench getting a few minutes.

I never thought my senior year would end like this. I told myself: “I will rehab for a bit and play in summer leagues to prepare for college.”

My mom was begging me to rehab my knee the whole summer but I didn’t listen and played in the adult league at the Gardena YMCA instead.

The only thing on my mind was to prepare for college and improve my basketball skills. The adult league was eight games, and I played all eight.

During the last game of the adult league, I went up to grab the offensive rebound and heard another “pop.”

I knew what it was. I got up slowly, hobbling off the court. Tears dripped down my face as I got to the sideline.

I grabbed my gear, barely able to walk to the car while my grandpa helped me on that rainy night.

When I got home and saw my mom, she saw my face and how upset I was. I told her “you were right and I’m sorry.”

The next morning, I woke up with my left knee swollen. Every time I tried to walk, my knee gave out on me.

I threw my shoes against the wall. I grabbed the rest of my basketball gear and threw it. Never did I think this would happen to me.

ACL tears are common, accounting for 64% of all knee injuries for athletes.

Even so, I felt like a failure. All I could tell myself was, “I failed. Jaylen, you’re a failure.”

I went from falling in love with basketball to hating it.

All the hours in the gym, all the days being sore, being pushed, all the sweat – gone. All the advice given from coaches and players went down the drain.

What hurt the most was seeing my peers playing at four-year universities. That was the goal I’d had for myself.

When my 7-year-old brother’s basketball coach stepped down at the Gardena YMCA, my mom wanted me to coach him. But I told her my love for the game was gone.

Time passed until I finally agreed to coach. The only reason was because of my brother.

There I was, in the same place I’d torn my ACL (the second time). The feeling of being back in the gym gave my body chills and I felt numb. My throat was closing but I had to stay composed.

As time passed, more parents saw my coaching skills and told me to pursue coaching.

At the time, I was battling my conscience about whether to play again or continue coaching.

My first semester at El Camino College, I tried out for the basketball team but realized I wasn’t the same player I was before. I gave up.

I told myself I’d pursue coaching because of my knowledge of the game. As a coach at the YMCA, we won three out of the four championships.

A player’s father knew a travel basketball team, West Coast Elite, was looking for coaches.

My old high school coach wanted me to coach at Lawndale.

Three years later, I started coaching at Lawndale as the boys’ junior varsity coach and assistant varsity coach. I now also coach for West Coast Elite’s 12-year-old boys.

Today, I appreciate the journey I’ve been on. I fell in love with coaching basketball.

Who knows where I would be if I didn’t get hurt? Still playing basketball? Never having coached?

I went from love to hate, then hate to love with basketball.

My goals now are to finish my degree at El Camino and transfer to a four-year university. I want to become a sports analyst or a coach on the college or even professional level.

During this experience, I learned to listen to those who try to help and look out for you. I learned that everything happens for a reason and that sometimes the thing we desire is not meant for us.

I also learned that being too eager comes with a price.