Coach Spotlight: Jung Lakyoung
- (Daniel) Haejun Kim
- Mar 7
- 2 min read
[Translated from Korean original text]
When we started Rock Basketball Jeju, we didn’t have a gym. A friend lent us two old shipping containers, and we turned them into a small court. One container held balls and water bottles. The other was where the kids changed their shoes. In summer the walls were hot and dripping with sweat. In winter they were freezing. But it was our place.
The kids still came. Some rode bikes across town. Some showed up straight from school with their bags on. They played until it got too dark to see the rim. I used to play pro ball, but I learned more there than I ever did in the league. You can see who really loves the game when the floor is uneven and the ball still bounces.
After a few years we saved enough to build a real gym. The first time I heard the ball hit the wooden floor, it sounded new. The echo was warm. Now the lights stay on late. I leave the doors open so anyone can walk in and shoot. Sometimes a middle-schooler stays alone, taking shots quietly. I watch for a minute and smile. I tell him, this place started small. Every jumper starts small too. Keep shooting.When we started Rock Basketball Jeju, we didn’t have a gym. A friend lent us two old shipping containers, and we turned them into a small court. One container held balls and water bottles. The other was where the kids changed their shoes. In summer the walls were hot and dripping with sweat. In winter they were freezing. But it was our place.
The kids still came. Some rode bikes across town. Some showed up straight from school with their bags on. They played until it got too dark to see the rim. I used to play pro ball, but I learned more there than I ever did in the league. You can see who really loves the game when the floor is uneven and the ball still bounces.
After a few years we saved enough to build a real gym. The first time I heard the ball hit the wooden floor, it sounded new. The echo was warm. Now the lights stay on late. I leave the doors open so anyone can walk in and shoot. Sometimes a middle-schooler stays alone, taking shots quietly. I watch for a minute and smile. I tell him, this place started small. Every jumper starts small too. Keep shooting.
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