I had missed my tenth shot in a row and I was deeply frustrated.  I simply couldn’t do it.  As much as I tried, I couldn’t put the ball in the basket with my left hand.  After all, I’m right-handed, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why my father was putting me through this torture of learning how to shoot the basketball with my left hand.  I was just a little kid, probably ten or eleven years old.  I was frustrated with myself and with him.

“I can’t do it,” I said with frustration.

“Yes you can,” he replied passionately.

“No, I can’t.”

“Keep trying.  You can do it.” Read more »