‘In the zone’
Gene Steinmeyer
Last Friday night, Trey Oglesby set a school record, making 9-of-11 three point field goals. That led to a convincing win over Benton in Maryville’s gym. You might say Trey was “in the zone.” Trey made three straight from the left corner, missed one, but didn’t miss much else the rest of the night.
The sophomore ended with 31 points that included tough shots off the dribble. Other players had significant contributions to the win. Jacob Cacek was instrumental in breaking the Benton press as well as dominating the lane. John Zimmerman hit seven of eight free throws in the fourth quarter, never allowing Benton to start a late rally.
However, it was Oglesby’s career night that stood out the most. I’ve heard about basketball players that were “in the zone.” I was able to witness it Friday night. I never had the chance to talk to Trey to ask him how it felt for him; how it felt to be in the zone.
I have always been fascinated by sports terms like “in the zone” or what marathoners call “hitting the wall.”
Personally, I think I “hit the wall” anytime I put on my running shoes and move faster than an average walker. I don’t think that’s what marathoners are describing.
I’ll bet anyone that has or does participate in sports at some time has fallen into “the zone” and maybe never even knew it. Have you ever been on the golf course and for a few magical holes, your slice disappears. No matter how hard you swing, that little white ball is going straight down the fairway. You’re “in the zone.”
What about putting? Is there a more frustrating part of a sport than trying to complete a golf hole? I personally believe that anything within 20 feet should be a “gimme.”
Every once in a while, a golfer will have total clarity on a golf green. They can read the break of the ball perfect, send the golf ball toward the cup at exactly the right speed and the cup appears to be as big as a gallon bucket as the golf ball makes that unmistakable sound of rattling in the cup.
Not that it has happened to me, but I hear rumors.
“The Zone” is real. Psychologists have a term for it. The say it’s a mental state of operation in which a person performing an activity is fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full involvement and enjoyment in the process of the activity.
In other words, you are “in the zone.”
I think I first heard about “the zone” when Michael Jordan was performing his magic for the Chicago Bulls. That man lived “in the zone.” Even a 102 degree fever in a playoff game couldn’t change his “mental state of operation.”
I talked to a couple of people personally who have experienced the “zone.” Jamie Bluma is a former major league pitcher for the Kansas City Royals. He was a rising star until he blew out his shoulder. I talked to him after he gave my son, Sam, a pitching lesson.
After shoulder surgery, he tried but failed to make it back to the major leagues. In his mid-30s, he coached a college wood bat team in Alaska. They didn’t qualify for the NBC World Series in Wichita, the same town in which Jamie played his college baseball.
Even at age 36, Jamie was picked up by a team as a player. Facing a team he had coached against in Alaska, Jamie entered the game in relief.
“I pitched against college kids that hadn’t seen a slider,” Jamie said. “I shut them down for 2 2/3 innings.”
It was his “Rookie” moment, and he spent some time “in the zone.”
Gentry Dietz, one of my basketball players at Northwest, spend the final 20 minutes of her college career “in the zone.” We had advanced to the Final Four in St. Joseph and faced a hot-shooting Michigan Tech team. The Bearcats trailed by six at half.
Gentry was held to four first half points. The second half she entered “the zone.” The 6-1 forward scored 29 second-half points. I never had an athlete score more in one half. Gentry only missed one shot the entire half. She carried the team on her back.
Unfortunately, the Tech three-point shooters were “in the zone,” too. They made 8-of-10 three-point field goals to hold off our charge.
“It was effortless,” Gentry recalled. “I didn’t think I would miss.”
You might notice I have avoided any personal experiences in the zone. It did happen; I just didn’t know it was called “the zone.”
To say I was an average high school basketball player would be stretching the truth. I didn’t start a single varsity game until my senior season and I certainly didn’t win any awards for my outstanding play.
Just before Christmas, my Wilber-Clatonia team was playing Pawnee City. I made my first couple of shots, which was unusual, and suddenly I couldn’t miss. I even came back from a sprained ankle to score a bunch of points in the fourth quarter.
I had 32 points, 22 points above my average, and I even had a date for the sock hop after the game. That was probably more amazing than the 32 points.
Sadly, I fouled out after scoring eight points the next game, my date dumped me and I was back to my old ways.
I have been searching for “the zone” ever since.
