Jeremy Lin’s story is the stuff dreams are made of

By: Kels Dayton

Jeremy Lin is living the dream.

My dream. Your dream. Any kid’s dream who has ever picked up a basketball.

He’s doing exactly what you think about when you’re young and full of imagination and hope. (Not to mention naivety).

I’m gonna play basketball at Harvard. I’m gonna score 30 on UConn, make a name for myself, and make it to the NBA.

I’m gonna play for the Knicks.

I might not play much at first, but when I get my chance…

I’m gonna drop 38 on Kobe, will a struggling team to six straight wins, and drill a game-winning shot at the buzzer to beat the Raptors.

I’m gonna shock the world. My last name is going to be an adjective, the New York Post is going to come up with lame pun headlines for me, and everyone in New York is going to love me like their long lost son.

I’m gonna do something no one has never seen before.

When you’re young and full of hope, you think about these things. You think about coming out of nowhere, being the underdog, and taking the world by storm. You think about doing it your way, on your terms, with all of your talents and capabilities coming out on the biggest stage possible. All of your potential being realized at the exact perfect moment.

That’s exactly what Jeremy Lin is doing, and that’s why it’s more fascinating to watch than an episode of Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman.

And the best part of all of this is, he makes you feel like it could be you out there.

It’s not like Lin comes from a background full of athletic Adonises. He’s 6-3, 215 pounds. Jeremy Lin isn’t the biggest, fastest, or strongest guy you’d find at your local gym.

His dad is 5-6 for crying out loud.

Gie-Ming Lin is a computer engineer in Palo Alto, a Taiwanese immigrant who never picked up a basketball until well into his 30s, and a man who inexplicably fell in love with the game while watching old NBA videotapes.

Kids like Jeremy Lin aren’t supposed to be doing stuff like this.

Asian-Americans don’t make it to the NBA. Kids from Harvard don’t make it to the NBA.

Lin was the California state Player of the Year in high school, but never received a Division 1 scholarship offer. He thinks his race played a part in that, although he can’t pigeonhole exactly why.

So he went to Harvard, earned his degree in economics, and somehow still found time for basketball. He worked and he worked and worked, playing against the toughest competition possible, always finding ways to challenge himself and improve his game.

You see, Lin hasn’t done this with incredible athleticism or an AAU pedigree. He’s done it with hard work and an all-out love for the game.

That’s all you need.

Yet somehow, we forget this. We put up roadblocks like genes or race or competition level. We say we can’t do it when the truth is we just don’t feel like doing it.

That’s why it’s so fascinating when someone comes along and puts it all together, the work ethic and the positive energy and the love for the game. It’s incredible to watch…it’s almost like fate or magic or something out of My Name Is Earl. There’s no real word for it, so we have to make one up.

Lin-sanity.