Share
MidReal Story
Barack Obama starts a street-style basketball league. He
Scenario:Barack Obama starts a street-style basketball league. He unexpectedly dunks on LeBron James.
Create my version of this story
In my family, basketball isn’t just a sport—it’s a passion that has been passed down through generations.
And for me, the game has been a constant companion throughout my life, from the courts of Honolulu where I first fell in love with it to the White House, where I played on the South Lawn, in the residence, and even in my formal office as President of the United States.
I’ve played my entire life, but it was on those courts in Hawaii that I truly fell in love with the game, and that love has only continued to grow over time.
Located near Waikiki Beach, these courts were home to some of the best pickup games you could find anywhere.
And as a young man looking for a sense of belonging, these courts gave me hope and an opportunity to learn more not just about myself, but also about the world around me.
The game was different on those blacktops than it was in the organized leagues back in the mainland.
There was no glass backboard, no air conditioning—only a stiff breeze coming off the ocean to help cool you down as you played in 85-degree weather with humidity so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.
The concrete was unforgiving; if you fell down, you’d be lucky if your skin wasn’t left behind, sticking to the surface.
But playing on those courts made me feel like I belonged, and it’s where I found my community.
I learned how to play from some of the older guys who’d show up every day, often with their black socks pulled up over their calves and their Converse high-tops strapped on tight.
These guys had been playing on these same courts for years—they’d been there when I was born—and they didn’t take it easy on me just because I was younger.
That’s not how it worked on these courts.
They’d bump me out of the lane when I’d try to drive to the basket, hack my arm when I went up for a shot, or even knock me on my ass when I went up for a layup just to see if I’d get back up.
And they did all of this while talking shit the entire time, as if they were trying to get into my head and make me doubt myself.
But they weren’t—they were trying to teach me a lesson.
They wanted me to understand that if I wanted to play with them, I was going to have to earn it.
And they wanted me to know that nothing in life would be handed to me simply because I wanted it.
They were trying to teach me how to fight through adversity and how to be resilient when things didn’t go my way—lessons that would stick with me throughout my life and shape the leader I would become.
These lessons would prove invaluable during my presidency, as leading a nation is not all that different from playing basketball on those courts in Hawaii.
When I took office in 2009, Barack Obama became not just a man but a symbol.
The first Black president of the United States, he was a walking testament of possibility and hope—two things we desperately needed after eight years of George W.Bush’s disastrous presidency came crashing down on us in the financial crisis of 2008.
As POTUS 44 navigated the turbulent waters of his office, he did so with grace and humility and—much like his predecessor—a lot of criticism along the way.
It seemed like no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, there was always someone there telling him he was wrong or that he needed to do more or less or anything else than what he was doing at the time.
But as much as people might want to pretend he was anything but human, Barack Obama was just that—a human being who made mistakes and had feelings that could be hurt.
And as president, he had a lot of responsibilities and pressure on his shoulders—more than any one person should ever have to bear.
As I navigated my presidency, I often felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, and the stress of the position was sometimes more than I thought I could bear.
I knew that my decisions would have lasting impacts, not just for me but for generations to come, and that scared me to my core.
I didn’t want to let anyone down, especially the American people, and the thought of someone getting hurt because of a choice I made kept me up at night more often than I’d care to admit.
But as much as I tried to do what was best for the country and its people, I couldn’t please them all, and that wasn’t easy for me to accept.
In fact, it was one of the hardest things about being president for me to come to terms with—that you couldn’t make everyone happy no matter how hard you tried to do so or how much you wanted to.
And while that realization was a tough one for me to swallow, it was something basketball had taught me long before I took office as well.
Whenever I found myself struggling with the pressures of leading a nation, I’d lace up my basketball shoes and head to the nearest hoop to shoot around, clear my mind, and regroup.
Shooting alone was one of my favorite things to do when I needed to think or just get away from everything for a little while.
The sound of the ball going through the net was therapeutic for me, and being able to put up shots without anyone watching or judging me—without worrying about whether I’d make or miss—allowed me to reconnect with myself and remember the person I was before I became the president.
But every once in a while, I’d find myself in need of something more than just an hour alone with my thoughts.
I’d need to hear the squeak of my shoes as I moved across the court or feel the sweat dripping down my face and into my eyes as we played five-on-five so I could get lost in the game and forget about the pressures of my life if even just for a little while.
Playing basketball with my advisors wasn’t just an opportunity for us to blow off some steam—it was also a lesson in competition and strategy.
We might not have been on the floor making policy decisions, but we were still trying to outsmart and outplay each other as we ran up and down the court in search of a win.
Those guys hated to lose, especially when they were playing against me.
They’d trash-talk me from the time we tipped off until the final buzzer sounded without ever taking a breath, but I could dish it out with the best of them—and I did—so I never let my guard down or let their words get to me no matter how much they tried.
There were moments when things got heated between us—when someone would throw an elbow or cross a line (or close to it) with their words—but those instances were few and far between.
Most of the time, we were able to laugh off our differences once the game ended, and we’d leave everything we had out on the court without ever bringing it back to work with us.
But there was one night, several months into my first term, when Reggie pulled me aside after we’d finished playing and told me I needed to take it easy on the guys and let them win every now and then.
He said they needed to feel good about themselves in order to be able to do their jobs effectively, and that I made it hard for them to feel that way whenever I crushed them on the basketball court.
Reggie was one of my closest friends, and I valued his opinion more than most, but this was one of the few times that I was going to have to respectfully disagree with him.
I might have been the leader of the free world, but I was also still a baller at heart—and I wasn’t about to lose on purpose to anyone just because they worked for me.
I’d spent too much time perfecting my shot and improving my game over the years to give up a win that easily, and I knew that if they ever did beat me, they’d want to know that they’d done so on their own merit.
So with a grin, I shook my head at Reggie and told him that he was crazy if he thought I was going to ease up on those guys anytime soon.
I was the president of the United States, but I was also the best basketball player in the White House, and I wasn’t about to let anyone forget it.
The simple joy of playing basketball was something I cherished as president, and I was grateful for the opportunity it provided me to feel like just another guy on the court even when I was running the most powerful country in the world.
I knew that my time in office was an incredible honor and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to make it through without holding onto some semblance of normalcy and connection with the outside world.
Playing basketball—and playing it well—was one of the few things that helped me do that, and I wasn’t about to give it up—even if Reggie didn’t like it.
The night after Reggie pulled me aside, we played a particularly intense game of five-on-five.
The guys were playing hard, knowing they needed a win after our conversation, but I played harder, knowing that they weren’t going to get what they wanted from me without a fight.
If anything, I was even more motivated to crush them on the court after our conversation, and I played like my life depended on it, scoring at will and shutting down my opponents at every turn.
The guys were frustrated by their inability to stop me, and they took out their anger on my teammates, throwing elbows and talking trash throughout the entire game.
I tried not to let their words bother me, but there came a point when enough was enough.
When one of them made a particularly offensive remark about my wife, Michelle, I’d had all I could take, and I knew that I had no choice but to make an example of him.
So when he went up for a layup at the end of the game, I met him at the rim and threw his shot back with authority before snatching the ball out of midair and racing down the court for a thunderous dunk.
The guys were stunned into silence by what had just happened, but Reggie was the only one who dared to break the tension by speaking up.
“Damn, Mr.President,” he said, looking up at me with a mixture of shock and awe.
“You didn’t have to do him like that.”
I looked back at him and raised an eyebrow as I headed back up the court.
“He shouldn’t have talked about my wife,” was all I said before walking away to finish out the game.
After that night, Reggie never asked me to lose on purpose again.
He knew that I was too competitive—and too proud—to ever stop playing my best, no matter who I was up against or what was on the line.
He also knew that he could never take basketball away from me—not even if he tried—and that it was something that would always be a part of who I was no matter where life took me next.
The summer after my presidency ended, when life finally settled down enough for me to catch my breath, I decided to start my own basketball league in Washington, D.
I’d spent so much time playing pickup games with my friends in Hawaii and Chicago over the years that it felt natural for me to want to keep doing it now that I was back in my hometown—with or without them by my side.
I’d never had enough time or resources at my disposal when I was president to get something like this off the ground, but now that I had both, I couldn’t wait to see where it would take me—or what it would become.
I named my league after my wife, Michelle Obama, as a tribute to her and as a way of expressing how much basketball still meant to me even after all these years.
Without Michelle’s love and support, I wouldn’t have been able to make it through all those tough games with my advisors—or all those tough nights in the White House—so it felt right for me to honor her in this way as I embarked on this new journey of my own.
Unlike most traditional basketball leagues, which often require players to pay a fee or try out for a team in order to participate, mine was designed to be open and inclusive for everyone regardless of their background or experience playing the game.
Instead of having referees who would call fouls and violations as they saw them, my league operated on an honor system where players were expected to respect one another and play fair even without someone watching over their shoulder.
Many people criticized my decision not to have referees in my league, saying that it would lead to chaos and bad sportsmanship among the players.
They argued that without an authority figure there to enforce the rules of the game, it was only a matter of time before things went off the rails and got out of control.
But as far as I was concerned, those critics were missing the point.
The whole reason why I’d wanted to start my own league in the first place was because I was tired of having other people tell me what to do and how to do it.
With my league, I wanted to create a space where young people could come together and play basketball in a way that was fun and free from any unnecessary pressure or judgment.
Instead of expecting players to be perfect all the time and never make mistakes, my league allowed them to be themselves and make their own choices even if they weren’t always the right ones.
If two players got into a fight on the court, for example, instead of having me or another adult intervene right away and break it up, they were expected to resolve the conflict on their own by talking it out and finding some common ground.
In this way, my league encouraged players to be responsible for their actions and make decisions for themselves even in difficult situations where they might not have all the answers.
It was a different approach than what most leagues were used to, sure, but as far as I was concerned, it was an important one—and one worth trying out for myself.
If America had taught me anything during my eight years as president, it was that sometimes you had to take risks and think outside the box in order to get things done and make real progress toward your goals, no matter how hard or scary it might be to try.
As long as everyone followed the golden rule of “no harm, no foul,” then everything would be just fine.
That was what mattered more than anything else.
Now in its third summer of operation, my league had already gained a pretty big following in Washington and attracted a number of talented young players from all across the city who were eager to get out on the court and show off their skills.
But even with all that success, it hadn’t been easy to get there.
There were plenty of people who told me that I was crazy for trying to start my own basketball league—and without any referees, too!
—because they didn’t think that I could pull it off or that it would be worth all the time and effort that it would take for me to make it happen.
They told me that I should just give up on my dreams and do something else with my life instead.
But I knew that they were wrong.
And so I kept going anyway.
There were also plenty of injuries along the way, too, with some players getting hurt on the court more than others either because of their recklessness or because they weren’t paying attention to what was going on around them.
One time, I even had to call an ambulance for a guy who’d broken his ankle while trying to jump over another player on a fast break.
He didn’t want to leave at first, even after I told him to go home, because he thought that he could still play even with his injury.
Eventually, he gave in and let me take him away so that he could get the medical attention that he needed.
In an effort to try and bring some more structure and order to my league, I decided that I was going to start using a captain-picking system in order to help divide up the teams more evenly than they had been before.
I figured that it would be a good way for players of all ages and skill levels to get a chance to play with and against each other and learn how to get along and work together as a team.
When the first game of the day was over and we were ready to start the next one, I gave each person in attendance a number that they could use to decide who they wanted to play with or against and let them go from there.
At first, everyone was really confused by what was going on and didn’t know how they should react or what they should do next.
Some people even tried to argue with me about why I shouldn’t be doing things the way that I was, because they thought that they knew better than I did and that I didn’t have any idea what I was talking about.
But eventually, they all came around and picked out who they wanted as their teammates, just like I wanted them to.
And guess what?
It turned out that they actually liked playing in my league even more than they had before!
Their attitudes were a lot better, too.
I could tell that they were having a lot more fun than they had before, too.
I guess all of that hard work and determination really did pay off in the end—or at least so I hoped anyway.
Even though I was still pretty new when it came to running my very own basketball league, I didn’t let any of the doubt or criticism get me down because I believed in myself and what I was doing—and in all of the young athletes who had come out to play with me, too.
When some of the older guys who were playing in my league started getting into a big fight over a hard foul that one of them had committed during a game rather than letting cooler heads prevail and resolving the situation peacefully and without any further violence or bloodshed, I knew that something had to be done in order to help teach them how to better control and manage their emotions and actions whenever things got a little too crazy on the court.
That was when I decided to call in a local martial arts instructor to come and give a quick demonstration on the basics of self-defense and conflict resolution by using aikido techniques to help diffuse the tension and show everyone how to behave and act properly—even when they were angry or upset about something.
After he was done showing off his moves and helping everyone clear their heads for a bit, the instructor gave everyone who was watching a few tips on how they could keep the peace in the future and avoid getting into any more fights than they needed to.
And then, he gave me a big smile and said, “But most importantly of all—don’t forget to have fun, too!”
After everything was said and done, all of the players shook hands with each other and apologized for any hurtful things that they’d said or done during the fight before making up and getting back to playing basketball.
And then, after the game was over, they all came up to me one at a time and thanked me for everything that I’d done to help them out before giving me a big hug and promising that they’d never forget what I told them that day.
And you know what?
Ever since then, nobody had ever gotten into a big fight or started yelling at each other over something stupid ever again!
That was when LeBron James showed up with his team and decided to challenge me and my guys to a showdown on the basketball court because he thought he had what it took to beat us.
But little did he know, he was about to walk into a trap!
Just like with all of my other games, everyone had to play by my house rules if they wanted to play in my league.
I could tell right away that LeBron didn’t like it when he found out about all of the crazy rules that we had to play by, but since it was too late for him to turn back now, he decided to suck it up and finish what he’d started.
And then, just like before, we all picked out our own teammates and chose who we wanted to be on our team based on our personal preferences and skill levels—which is how it should’ve been from the very beginning!
The game was fast-paced from start to finish because both teams played really well against each other—and because nobody liked it when LeBron started talking trash to us either!
Even though he was bigger and more muscular than any of us were—and even though he was one of the best basketball players in the entire world as well—none of that stuff mattered once we got out on the court because we all gave him everything we had every time we played against him, no matter how tough or good we thought he was.
And you know what?
We all played pretty well for the entire game too, if I did say so myself.
I made a lot of really good passes and shots that put us into a pretty big lead early on, and even though LeBron tried to keep the game close by scoring some points of his own, it just wasn’t enough to help him steal the win from us.
But even though we all played well together as a team, there was one play in particular that I would never forget, too.
With only a few seconds left in the game, I stole the ball from LeBron and ran down towards the basket at full speed in an attempt to score one last point—and then all of a sudden, I saw my chance to dunk it over him and make the highlight reel for the very first time in my life, too.
With all of my strength and energy, I jumped up as high as I could into the air and then slammed the ball down into the hoop as hard as I could right before I fell down onto the ground and let go of the net—and then, all of a sudden, I heard this loud noise erupting from the crowd that made me feel even more energized than ever before.
