Are You Good Enough to Play at the Next Level?
Are You Good Enough to Play at the Next Level?
A high school player came up to me after a workout yesterday to say bye. I got a certain vibe that I needed to ask him a question to make him think. I’m sure I do this way too much, but it’s part of the deal. It’s what you get when you come to see us. I asked him, “How’s your mentality right now?” He knows this is where I think he needs to grow the most. He looked me dead in the eye and asked: “I don’t know if I’m good enough to play in college.”
I tried not to be too livid. And maybe that is what he’s thinking, but it’s such a cop out. And the disappointing part to me is that we’ve had numerous conversations about this exact topic. He knows there are different levels even within the levels. Maybe he had a bad workout? I don’t have time to worry about one bad workout or one bad game. I’m more concerned about why the workout was bad. I’m more concerned about the input that causes the bad game.
The Answer Behind the Answer
Here’s the thing: when a player says that they doubt if they’re good enough to play at the next level, they’re in one of three buckets. One, they are uninformed about what the next level actually looks like. Two, they want someone to make them feel better — to help feel more confident (or less insecure). Three, they want someone to tell them no so they can feel justified in quitting. Either way, they’re outsourcing a decision they’re afraid to own.
That’s the trap. And a coach who responds to it directly — with a clean yes or a clean no — is doing that player a disservice.
The truth is, “good enough” is not a fixed point. It’s a moving target that depends on things you actually control: your work, your intentionality, your self-awareness, and your environments.
None of those four things are answered by my opinion on a random Tuesday in a Charlotte gym.
What I Actually Say
So I’ll tell you exactly what I told that kid.
I said: “You’re thinking about this the completely wrong way. You are going to play in college if you want to. The question is what level.” Because there’s a big difference between a P4 program and a D3 developmental team.
Then I asked him a different question: “How do you spend your 24 hours?” I didn’t want an answer out loud, and I told him that. I wanted him to sit with it. How much sleep is he actually getting. How much time is on his phone. How much time is he in the gym truly working, versus just showing up. How much time watching film to get better, versus watching highlights to feel good. How much time recovering, versus how much time complaining about being tired. And how many of the players he’s competing against — for the roster spot, the scholarship, the playing time — are winning that hour-by-hour battle right now, tonight, without needing anyone to check on them.
That’s the real conversation. Not “am I good enough,” but “what am I doing with the hours I actually have, and what am I willing to change about it.” I could answer his first question. I’ve seen enough kids and enough gyms to have an opinion. I refuse to. The second he gets an answer from me, he stops looking at his own 24 hours honestly — he just outsources it, which is exactly what he was trying to do in the first place. He’s the only one who can look at his own hours and decide what needs to move.
Put a pause on this for a second.
The same day, we get a text from an eighth-grade girl who has evaluated herself on 10 different categories with an action plan to improve in order to make her high school varsity team. She was already the best player on her 7th grade team. Will she be the best player on her 8th grade team? Maybe. Maybe not. But she’s taking ownership. She’s going to be as good as she can be this coming year. She did this on her own. No parent asked her to do it. No coach asked her to do it.
Has she thought about playing in college? Maybe. Maybe not. Is that what she’s worried about? Clearly not. She’s thinking about the next step in the process. And there’s a plan associated with it. Was her evaluation accurate? It’s irrelevant. Was her action plan perfect? It doesn’t matter.
So now what? What a juxtaposition. I’m afraid there are more players like the first one than the second.
The Coaches Who Get This Wrong
Let me be blunt: some coaches lie. They tell every kid on the roster they can play in college because it keeps the kid engaged, keeps the parents happy, and keeps the checks coming in. That’s negligence dressed up as encouragement.
And some coaches go the other direction — they crush kids early with a verdict that isn’t theirs to give. We’ve worked with countless players who thought their career was over. Players who no one gave a chance. Players who got cut in high school, or who were at best role players, and turned themselves into full scholarship college players. That’s not an accident. They weren’t very good — but then they got good.
Both of those responses fail the player. The dishonest cheerleader and the premature verdict-giver are both dodging the actual work, which is helping the player see their situation clearly and then competing like the answer is yes.
“Good enough” was never a talent threshold. It’s a behavior pattern — and the only person who gets to prove the pattern is the player.
What I Want Every Player Asking This to Hear
If you’re asking the question, you already care. That matters. But caring without a plan is just hope, and hope is not a strategy.
Get honest about your current level. Not brutally pessimistic — honest. Find environments where you’re competing against better players and being pushed to close the gap. Get your film in front of people who can actually evaluate you. Write the emails. Make the visits. Do the boring work consistently.
And then let the game answer the question.
Because I promise you — I’m not the one who gets to decide this. Neither is your high school coach, your AAU director, or your uncle who played juco in 1998. You are. And the way you decide is by competing until you know.
Aram runs Hoops College, a basketball training program in Charlotte. The program is the offer that follows from the argument. → hoopscollege.com