'This is my fight': Andrew 'Spongebob' Washington - ALL-MET ELITE

'This is my fight'

 Andrew 'Spongebob' Washington

 ALL-MET ELITE

COURTESY OF AOL.COM
 

Andrew 'Spongebob' Washingon is a D.C. streetball legend who became the champion of FIGHTBALL, the world's most intense one-on-one basketball competition. His life has completely changed, but he hasn't forgotten his past. This is his incredible journey in his own words, as told to AOL Sports.

 

 

Mom was praying. A lot.

She's a strong woman, that Joyce Washington, but she'd been the rock of our family for long enough. She knows her baby boy all too well; she heard it in my voice and knew I really meant it this time. I chose to become obsessed with getting on the right path. It was time for me to step up and become our rock. This is my chance, I kept saying.

I'm only 32 years old and I've been homeless, I've been broke, I experienced what it was like to be alone with nothing but your thoughts in a prison cell, and worst of all I know what it's like to fall short of being the best you can be. The excuses are done, I replayed in my head, and victory is in my future.

FIGHTBALL was the vehicle I needed, the big break I had been searching for, to walk the walk. At first the concept sounded a little crazy – the world's most intense one-on-one basketball competition – but knowing I could utilize my basketball skills to score a big payday and get on the right track was all I needed to hear. And the more I heard, the more I believed in the product.

I had played overseas. I hung 52 points on Kevin Durant and 40 on Gilbert Arenas in the park. There's one place, I know, in the world where I am most comfortable and confident: the court. Like I said, though, Mom was still praying.

I've been blessed throughout my life –- and next to sharing the love I have for my little daughter, I've never felt God's goodness more than on a dimly lit court inside a New York City nightclub where hundreds of bystanders witnessed the birth of what some are calling "the sports world's newest obsession."

One-one-one basketball. Full court. Eight-second shot clock. Eight-minute games. Nowhere to hide.

When I finally won the overall championship –- and the $100,000 check that came with it –- I was overjoyed. Sometimes in life when you accomplish a goal, it feels great just because you believed in yourself the whole time.

Even during the storms.

Growing up wasn't easy, but I've heard of –- and certainly witnessed –- worse situations. My mom always put us first, and that's why she's my hero. Actually, I have two role models. My 19-year-old sister Alexis is my best friend. She exemplifies living life to the fullest despite her fight with being in a wheelchair every day.

So, no, tall and muscular basketball players who fake a snarl before playing one-on-one don't scare me. Alexis faces her battle with a smile. That's what I do too -– because I want to be like her.

My stepdad, who passed away 2009, was the first person to introduce me to basketball. From the first moment, I fell in love with it. I loved the thought of having to earn two points. I was oddly drawn to the massive failure rate. If you miss a shot, it's no big deal. The next possession will be better. Maybe that's why it's become my comfort zone. I've missed a lot of shots in my life. And I'm not talking about basketball. But I've always known I could do better – and would do better – the next time around. Being a good basketball player demands an innate sense of optimism and self-assurance. Now that I think about it, basketball made me who I am.

As a kid, it kept me busy. Guys were doing things they shouldn't have been doing, but I chose basketball instead. Basketball saved my life.

I only played during the last two years in high school, and in my senior year I actually was a post player. I'm only 6-foot-2, but knew how to use my body. I could jump high and was fearless. That same season, I had a coach who passed away and I remembered, from the moment I transferred in, he taught me so much about how to play aggressively. He believed in me and that felt good.

After high school, I went to play at Allen County Community in Kansas and was named Conference Player of Year during my sophomore year. I then transferred to the University of Delaware and experienced success there too. After school, I had a couple agents who said they could get me here, get me there, and eventually ended up in the ABA suiting up for the Maryland NightHawks. It was my first pro job, which was cool, but I still reached out to a couple overseas scouts. In my second season, I got a contract in Mexico. Then Uruguay. Then Romania.

And in one moment, all of that didn't mean anything. In 2011, I was coming back from a job and got into a situation at an airport. I was sent to prison for what happened and it took two years away from my life. It was hard because for that dark period because I wasn't playing competitive basketball. And when I finally got out and came back home to D.C., there were money problems. My living situation was, well, not optimal either. Here's when I scared myself the most: I came to the realization that the only way to make money was going to Iraq. I was terrified.

But just when I thought God stopped listening, I received a call from a group of businessmen from Israel and Sweden named Liron Reznik and Jonas Hallberg, respectively, and they wanted to know if I was interested in joining a new sport they were creating.

One catch, they reiterated.

"It's not for everyone."

I got that call when I was in Los Angeles for a tournament. We talked, we got to know each other and they eventually came to know my story. They knew the CliffsNotes version -– I dominated street ball in D.C., in one of the best leagues down there, played well against NBA guys, and now I wanted another opportunity.

Things happened from there. I was a believer in FIGHTBALL right away, from the first day. At the first event, other guys were playing -– I played during the second day -– but I still had a chance to soak in the atmosphere. I was so ready to compete and so appreciative to be a part of it.

As the three-day event in February was about to tip-off in New York City, it dawned on me that people would never fully grasp how difficult this sport is. I have to work extremely hard to be physically fit and FIGHTBALL ready. Yes, that's a thing.

I tried to tailor my rigorous training regimen. I wasn't doing too much heavy lifting. Actually, I never really needed to do that. I was a 10-pound baby and I've always been bulky. I lost about 10-to-12 pounds just because how much cardio I was doing prior to the tournament.

The biggest mental exercise, though, came while I was doing time. I learned about myself in those two years. I promised that if I ever got back on top I'd always be humble. I'd value my family, my friends, everybody.

When you're on top, when you're playing overseas, when you're getting money, you hear everyone tell you how great you are. You have a lot people around you who may not have your best interests at hand. I learned the hard way. I promised when I came home, I would play my heart out. Every day. I know what it's like to have life taken away from you –- and that was not happening again.

In fact, I was going to create my new life.

Now you understand why my mind was heavy before the FIGHTBALL final. When I wrapped up a victory over Leandro De Lima of Brazil, fans went wild and I couldn't breathe. I looked around and was taken aback on how quickly my life changed for the better. I received the big check and posed for pictures that generated immense buzz on social media and especially back home in D.C. Some knew my story, some didn't. But all the love I felt was real and I appreciated it.

I retreated to the locker room after the pomp and circumstance was over and delirious fans poured out of the nightclub and into the streets of Manhattan well past midnight. Being choked up is tough to hide while taking pictures and talking to supporters after victory. I had just won FIGHTBALL. I was the toughest cat in the place. I couldn't be seen crying.

But I picked up my cell phone in the darkness of a non-descript concrete locker room and started to lose it. Mom and Alexis were so proud of me. But they made sure to remind me: Focus on not forgetting what that I had been through and to stay humble and grounded. I cried at the hotel that night. I cried on the train home. I was so blessed.

If I didn't go through all that I did, I wouldn't have been FIGHTBALL ready. Truth be told, I was exhausted, but I just used that extra motivation, all that pain, all that built-up hurt and I let it come out in my game. The bad times in my life provided enough adrenaline and motivation.

Life has been good since the win. I went back to my normal routine, helping my mom and sister, doing my best to be a role model for my daughter and, honestly, just being a homebody. I don't go out and I don't do anything that could potentially bruise the new life I created. I'm in a position where I can't take anything for granted, but I also can't be satisfied.

So, yes, I'm training for the next FIGHTBALL event this summer. The sky is the limit for the new sport, and it's going to keep growing and growing more rapidly as time goes on. Maybe five years from now, it might become major sport –- and I'm honored to be one of the pillars.

This is my calling because I play with so much passion. I am FIGHTBALL. It's my life and I'm going to give it everything I have.