Alright, so today I decided to really get into this Phil Cunningham basketball thing I’ve been hearing bits and pieces about. You know how it is, you see something, it sounds interesting, and you think, “Yeah, I can do that.” So, I laced up my sneakers and headed to the local court, mind full of… well, mostly just the name “Phil Cunningham” and a vague idea of some intense drills.
Getting Started – Or Stumbling, Rather
I got there, court was pretty empty, which was good. Didn’t want an audience for what I suspected might be a bit of a mess. I started with some basic warm-ups, just trying to get loose. But even then, I was trying to channel this “Phil Cunningham energy.” What is that, you ask? Heck if I know, really. I just imagined it meant being super focused, maybe a bit gritty. So, I did my stretches with extra oomph, I guess.
First thing I tried to tackle was some dribbling stuff. I’d seen, or maybe I just imagined, this specific crossover that was supposed to be his signature. Let me tell you, my feet and hands were not on speaking terms. I probably looked like I was fighting off a swarm of invisible bees. Lost the ball more times than I care to admit. It’s always funny how these “simple” drills you hear about are never simple when you actually try them.
The Shooting Saga
After feeling sufficiently humbled by the basketball, I moved on to shooting. This is where I really thought the “Phil Cunningham” magic might happen. I had this image in my head of a really quick release, almost a flick. So, I stood there, trying to replicate it.
- First shot: Airball. Way left.
- Second shot: Hit the side of the backboard. Embarrassing.
- Third shot: Actually grazed the rim. Progress!
I spent a good thirty minutes just trying to get this flick right. My regular shot felt completely alien all of a sudden. It was like my arm forgot its basic programming. It was frustrating, man. You see these pros, or even guys who are just good, and they make it look so smooth. Then you try it, and you feel like a puppet with tangled strings.
There was a point where I just stopped. Stood there, hands on my hips, staring at the hoop. Thought to myself, “Maybe this Phil Cunningham style just isn’t for me.” Or maybe Phil Cunningham himself spent years looking like an idiot before he got it right. Who knows?
A Glimmer of… Something
I took a water break, watched some kids playing a pickup game on the other side. They were just having fun, not overthinking it. That kinda helped, actually. Cleared my head a bit.
I went back to the shooting, but this time, I decided to forget about the “full Phil Cunningham” for a second. I just focused on one tiny part: the wrist snap. Just that. Not the footwork, not the setup, just the snap. And wouldn’t you know it, a few actually went in. Clean. Swish.
It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. And I’m pretty sure if Phil Cunningham himself (if he’s even a real specific coach for this stuff, or just a name I latched onto) saw me, he’d probably just shake his head. But for me, in that moment, it felt like a small win. It wasn’t about suddenly becoming amazing, but more about understanding that these things take serious, focused, and often very annoying, repetition.
Wrapping Up the Experiment
So, I wrapped up after that. Tired, a bit sweaty, and my ego slightly bruised but also slightly patched up. This whole “Phil Cunningham basketball” session was a mixed bag. I didn’t suddenly transform into a better player. But I did get a good reminder that improvement is messy. It’s a lot of fumbling and failing before you get even a tiny bit better.
Will I try the “Phil Cunningham” stuff again? Probably. Maybe I’ll try to find out if there’s more to it than what I’ve pieced together. Or maybe I’ll just keep working on that wrist snap. The main thing is, I got out there and put in the work. And that’s always something, right?
