Being from Virginia where our state motto is “Virginia is for Lovers,” I should be an expert on love.

With Valentine’s Day coming up love is in the air and it’s everywhere, so naturally I should be writing about love. While February 14th may not be a lovely day for those who do not have someone to share their love with, I feel that there is something that each one of us has a passion for—something that we love.

For me that something is basketball.

Call it what you want: an obsession, a passion, an infatuation, a dedication, a fascination—a love for the game of basketball. Because above all things in life, basketball is the sole remedy for all your troubles.

There’s nothing like going out on the court by yourself and just dribbling and shooting. You can envision yourself in any situation imaginable—you have the ball with 3 seconds left, and your team is down by 1. You are at the free throw line with no time left and a tie game.

No matter what situation you envision yourself in there’s nothing like playing basketball. There is nothing like that feeling when you have that bounce in your step and you’re dribbling the ball, setting up your imaginary opponent, deciding whether you’re going to shoot the pull-up jumper or blow right by him. You feel the ball rotate in your hands as you dribble. You cross from left to right, right to left, and back again. You dribble between the legs and behind the back.

It’s all so beautifully coordinated. The elevation on a jump shot. The backspin of the ball. The sound of the swishing net—that’s the shit that makes me feel good. Just shooting jumpers all day and getting in that rhythm. That rhythm is what I live for. It’s what I love.

You feel like you can shoot from anywhere on the court. You can’t miss. Every time you shoot the ball you know it’s going in. It’s that triple-threat position, eyeing the whole court—seeing all those imaginary teammates and defenders. It’s the satisfaction you get from draining free-throw after free-throw—knowing that even if you were to close your eyes you would still make it. It’s the sound of the ball being dribbled on the pavement, or hardwood—whichever you choose.

It’s the squeak of your sneaks as you breakdown your imaginary opponent off the dribble. It’s that adrenaline you get when you take off for a lay-up and slap the backboard on your way down. It’s how everything—all your problems, fears, worries and troubles just seem to vanish. And the only thing that’s left is you, the game, and an indescribable love.