From the Sidelines

By: Collin Wang

It was a Tuesday afternoon. 

The sun was high and strong. A few clouds drifted above Catamaran Park, but they were too lazy to block the sun for more than a few seconds. I had just finished a game of pickup basketball with some friends, and we were all extremely sweaty and tired. I sat on a low wall near the court, taking gulps from my water bottle; my gaze drifted around the peaceful park.

After a while, a few strangers began to show up. Then a few more. Eventually, around ten people had gathered around the court. They didn’t come together, but they quickly began to form teams as if this meeting had been planned. I saw high schoolers, adults who looked like they had just gotten off work, older guys in their fifties, college students, people of all different races. Nobody looked the same.

And then, they played. Nothing dramatic. Nothing exceptional. No one dunked or drained buckets from half court. 

I don’t know why this moment was so memorable to me.

These people clearly came from different lives, had different stories, and yet here they were, connecting over a simple game of basketball. No one was talking or explaining anything; they were just taking some questionable passes and shots. No one really knew each other. But they passed the ball, laughed at the occasional airball, and played hard. There was a quiet understanding among the group to just enjoy the game.

These were people who had clearly had long days. Of school, work, research, maybe, I have no idea. It was very apparent in the droop in their shoulders when they arrived and the way most of them stretched. But none of that followed them onto the court. On this random Tuesday, at this random park, they’d all quietly agreed to let everything go.

I started to wonder: how often do we as a society get to do that? Just exist next to other people without needing to perform, explain, or belong in any specific way?

They were there for each other, even if they didn't know it. In that moment, they all lived in the same space, doing the same thing, with no obligation to explain themselves to anyone.

Community is talked about as this big, structured ideal. But I find that community can also be just being there: for others and for yourself. It brings the comfort of a shared silence. It brings a feeling of being freed from whatever challenges of life one is going through. A reminder that even when life feels chaotic, some things can remain constant and reliable.

I sat there for a while, thinking about how rare and special this kind of moment is nowadays: just enjoying life with others.

I imagine my own contentment, peace, and happiness as a house. As a high school student, the pressure of homework, tests, and college feels like an everlasting hurricane trying to topple my house. But I've found that taking some time myself to enjoy a meal with my family or appreciate a movie with my friends strengthens the support beams, fixes cracks in the frame, and replaces the broken windows that have appeared.

I didn’t talk to any of them. They didn’t even notice me. But I’m glad I saw them.

Because sometimes the seemingly insignificant moments, like ten strangers playing basketball on a warm Tuesday, remind us that we’re not all that different, and that being with others matters more than we often realize.

7.19.2025