(Editor's note: Duke senior Georgia Schweitzer, the 1999-2000 ACC Player of the Year, will share a weekly diary with ESPN.com throughout the season.)

Jan. 22, 2001

	Schweitzer

Fans and budding athletes often ask me how I got started playing basketball or why I have chosen basketball as the sport to pursue. My response usually centers around my two older brothers, I wanted to do everything they did, including playing basketball. My dad built us a half court in the backyard (well, it was actually for my older brothers since I was only in second grade at the time), but that small patch of pavement would eventually become my haven, my outlet from the world, a place to be alone with my dreams.

The court had a terrific street light that my childhood memory exaggerates into a beam that lit up the entire neighborhood. But the point is that we could play at night -- this was no dim attempt to light up the court.

One day I decided to see what all the excitement from my brothers was about and ventured outside to the court. The rest is history as I caught on fast and could not wait for 3:30 to come every day after school -- that is when Paul, my best friend, and I would meet to play.

We played every day until dinner, in the rain and in the snow. We never played because we thought it would bring us recognition, college scholarships or fame -- we just wanted to play. I have the fondest memories of the nights when all the neighborhood kids would come to my house to play. There was a little mud puddle, just out of bounds under the basket. Sometimes the ball would go through the net and bounce right in the puddle.

We played "make-it, take-it" rules, and sometimes after the other team scored, I would be so mad I would roll the ball in the mud a little and then yell "check!" as I passed to the other team, mud splattering all over the other player. OK, other people did it to me plenty of times!

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I remember my hands getting so cold that I would run inside and run hot water over them until they were warm, and then I would race right back outside!

My favorite times, though, were when I was by myself, letting my mind wander and my body relax into that comfortable, almost natural motion of shooting. There were perfect spring nights, when it was just cold enough for a sweatshirt and sweat pants but eventually, when you started to sweat, your sweat kept you warm. I would watch the moths swarm the light and I would listen to the sounds of the dark.

It did not matter how many shots I made. Sometimes I just dribbled. I had this great city rock basketball, and it made it outside through the winter without getting flat or tired, even if I did. On those perfect nights, my hands stayed warm, and the air was so perfect I wished I would have bottled it up and saved it for later.

I was never one to imagine hitting the game-winning shot or hearing the roar of the crowd. I just played and I just tried to do better than the previous day. I tried to keep the ball from getting out of my control and rolling down the hill!

One night I was playing and a bunch of friends were waiting to toilet paper my house. We were in eighth grade and it was my basketball team wanting to get my dad, the coach. But I just kept shooting until midnight, and since they were all out way past curfew, they all got in trouble for being out so late.

We have a lot more of those perfect nights in North Carolina than I did growing up in Ohio. And now when I am out at night, coming from practice or going to the library, sometimes I sense that perfect air and wish I could be back at my court, alone and having a blast.