After helping the Cleveland Cavaliers clinch the Eastern Conference title over the Boston Celtics on Sunday, securing a trip to the NBA Finals, forward Jeff Green was overcome with emotion when addressing the media.
"I'm here, and I've battled. I've worked my ass off each day since Jan. 9, 2012, to get back on this court and now compete for a championship," he said.
"I mean, I almost lost it all, and now to sit here in front of you guys, to talk about the NBA Finals and playing in it, I mean, I've been truly blessed to be able to step foot on this court, to play this game. Each day I give it my all, whether good or bad. I live with the results."
Sure, making it to the finals is a huge accomplishment for any athlete, but for someone who once wasn't even sure if he would ever play basketball again, it takes on a completely different significance.
Diagnosed with an aortic aneurysm in December of 2011 while a member of the Celtics, the then-25-year-old was told he'd need open-heart surgery, and that his future in basketball was very much in doubt. Hearing those words must have been devastating and earth shattering -- the kind of news that makes you feel dizzy, nauseous and overwhelmed with anxiety and terror.
Trust me on this one.
When I heard I needed open-heart surgery in 2016, I felt like the floor -- not just the rug -- had been pulled out from under my feet.
And once the initial paralyzing fear finally subsides, you start to process what you've just been told, and the questions start:
How long will it take to recover?
Will it hurt?
Is there a chance I won't make it?
If I do, will my life ever be the same again?
The weight of those words are heavy as it is. For a professional athlete, someone who relies on their body to do their job, the weight must be even heavier.
Green's 2012 surgery was successful. But that hardly means he was instantly better. In fact, that's really when the recovery begins.
I can't fully put into words the searing pain that follows this type of procedure. I remember lying in agony in my ICU hospital bed the day after my surgery, thinking if I could just move up a few inches, I might feel some relief. I tried to use my arms to pull myself up and was unable until a nurse finally came to my rescue. It's as helpless as I've ever felt.
Later that day, I struggled to walk with a walker down the hallway. In that demoralizing moment, I didn't think I would ever be able to run or do much of anything physical ever again.
You couldn't cry about it even if you wanted to. The pain makes it feel like you can't breathe. And forget about that whole "laughter is the best medicine" thing. That's a cruel thing to say to someone who's just had their sternum sliced open.
I obviously can't speak for Green, and I don't know for sure if his experience was similar, but I've never heard of anyone who breezed through the post-surgery process. In those early days, it's possible that basketball was the last thing Green was thinking about.
A few weeks after surgery, most patients are encouraged to start cardiac rehabilitation, which involves light exercise in a highly-monitored environment. You're surrounded by mostly old people, several of whom have never worked out before. For Green, I can't imagine how humbling it must have been to be closely observed by nurses while walking slowly on a treadmill for 10 minutes or lifting five-pound weights -- or, worse, if he was ever told he was trying to push himself too early and his heart wasn't ready for it.
It's a slow, and often trying, process. A journey as much about willpower and mental determination as anything. All the while, Green likely was just hoping the doctors would ultimately clear him to play again.
Green returned to the NBA for the start of the 2012-2013 season -- just nine months after surgery. In contrast, and I had a number of complications (and, you know, am not a professional athlete), I was still attending cardiac rehab seven months later. To that quickly return to competition among the best athletes in the world is nothing short of miraculous.
He bounced around with a number of teams before eventually landing with the Cavs this season. Mostly a reserve, Green stepped up when it counted against his former team, scoring 19 points and nabbing eight rebounds in place of the concussed Kevin Love on Sunday in Boston. After the Game 7 victory, his teammate LeBron James poignantly summed up his contributions.
"His number was called, and he just answered the call," James said. "It's amazing. Listen, at the end of the day, what he does on the basketball floor is extra credit. This guy had open-heart surgery a few years ago. The game was basically taken away from him, and they said it's possible you'll never play the game of basketball again.
"The fact that he can put on a uniform every day and do the things that he does out on the floor -- I don't care if he makes a shot. To make big plays like he made tonight, for him personally, it's the cherry on top because the game was taken away from him."
Just putting on a jersey every night has to feel like a gift. A high five with a teammate, the squeak of sneakers on the court, the sound of the ball going through the net, an interaction with a fan -- little things he may have never even thought about before surgery probably take on a whole new meaning, and will even more so in his first NBA Finals. For me, I'm deeply appreciative every day of being able to run again, and I don't take for granted crossing the finish line in the 5K races I've been able to do, or even the aches and pains that come with it.
Every moment he spent fighting to get back on the court has led him to the sport's biggest stage. But no matter if he leads the team to its second NBA championship or if he goes scoreless in a losing sweep, it really doesn't matter. He has already won.
