When you’re young and talented, you think basketball is simple.

If you can play, you can play. Go out there and prove it. That was definitely how I looked at basketball growing up in Western Pennsylvania.

It took me getting older to understand something I didn’t fully comprehend back then: basketball has always been about more than just how good you are. Relationships matter. Reputation matters. Who believes in you matters. And sometimes, being misunderstood by the wrong people can follow you.

When I look back at my own career, two names immediately come to mind: Sonny Vaccaro and Howard Garfinkel.

Those two men had enormous influence in high school basketball. And without realizing it at the time, I had opportunities to build relationships with both of them.

 

Sonny Vaccaro Put Western Pennsylvania on the Basketball Map

People today know Sonny Vaccaro for his connection to Michael Jordan, Nike, Adidas and the sneaker world.

But if you were a basketball player coming up in my era, Sonny’s name meant something different. It meant access. It meant exposure. It meant opportunity.

And Sonny was one of us. He came from Western Pennsylvania.

For an area known nationally much more for football than basketball, having somebody from here become one of the most powerful people in grassroots basketball was a big deal. Sonny helped create opportunities that connected high school players with the larger basketball world.

His ABCD Camp became one of the places to be.

This wasn’t some neighborhood basketball camp. You walked into ABCD and saw elite talent everywhere. Future college stars. Future NBA players. Some of the most highly recruited high school players in America.

And I was fortunate enough to be invited.

 

I Went to ABCD — And Didn’t Understand the Opportunity

I can still remember how much talent was at ABCD. You couldn’t hide. You had to hoop.

That part was perfect for me because games were always where I separated myself.

But ABCD wasn’t only about playing basketball. Sonny wanted more from the kids there. We had classes and other responsibilities we were expected to attend.

And I missed some of them.

At the time, I probably didn’t think much about it. Today? I look back at that completely differently.

Sonny knew I was a Pittsburgh kid. He knew exactly who was attending those classes and who wasn’t. And here I was, somebody from his own area who he didn’t have to invite in the first place, missing things I was supposed to be attending.

Whether I intended disrespect or not didn’t really matter. It looked bad.

That’s something maturity teaches you. Your intentions and somebody else’s perception of your actions can be two completely different things.

I wasn’t trying to disrespect Sonny Vaccaro. I was young. But Sonny couldn’t read my mind. He could only judge what I showed him.

 

Then Howard Garfinkel Called My House

Howard Garfinkel was another giant in that world. His Five-Star Basketball Camp became legendary.

If you’re younger, it’s difficult to explain what Five-Star meant before social media. There was no Instagram mixtape going viral overnight. There wasn’t a highlight clip from every game immediately online. Camps like Five-Star were where reputations were made. The best players in the country came through there.

Howard Garfinkel actually called my house. He wanted me at Five-Star. He was looking forward to meeting me.

And I didn’t go.

That’s another decision I understand completely differently as a grown man. The funny part is why I didn’t go.

I hated drills. That’s the truth.

I knew Five-Star was serious about teaching and drilling.

And I was one of those players who could look completely average doing drills and then look like an elite national recruit five minutes later when they rolled the basketball out and started playing five-on-five.

Put me in a drill? You might wonder what everybody saw in me. Put me in a game? Now you understood.

I knew my personality. I knew I hated doing drills. Instead of communicating that or simply going there and embracing something that would’ve made me better, I basically went AWOL. Again, I wasn’t thinking, “I’m going to disrespect Howard Garfinkel.”

But how was he supposed to know that? All he knew was that he personally reached out, wanted me at his camp, and I didn’t show.

Looking back, I understand exactly how that could’ve created an impression of me that wasn’t necessarily who I really was.

 

The Four People You Didn’t Want Against You

This is where my story gets interesting.

Growing up as a basketball player in Western Pennsylvania, there were certain people whose opinions carried serious weight. Sonny Vaccaro was one. Howard Garfinkel was another. Then there was Coach John Miller, one of the most respected and connected basketball coaches in Western Pennsylvania. And Mike White, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette high school sportswriter whose coverage carried enormous influence in the area.

At different points, for different reasons, I didn’t have great relationships with any of them.

Think about that.

I’m a highly recruited kid from Pittsburgh trying to navigate the basketball world, and four of the most influential basketball people connected to my area weren’t exactly standing in my corner.

Some of that was on me. Some of it was misunderstanding. Some of it was personality. Some of it was probably people hearing things and forming opinions. But whatever the reasons were, the result was the same. I was basically on my own.

And the crazy thing is, I didn’t understand how important that was.

 

I Thought Being Nice Was Enough

My mentality was simple: “Watch me play.”

I thought my game would answer everything. And sometimes it did. That’s probably why I still accomplished what I accomplished despite everything surrounding me.

But basketball doesn’t operate in a vacuum.

Coaches talk. Writers talk. Camp directors talk. College coaches call people they trust and ask questions. “What’s this kid like?” “Can you coach him?” “Is he reliable?” “What’s his family like?” “Does he work?” “Is there anything we need to know?”

One conversation can change how somebody views a 17-year-old kid they’ve barely met. That’s the part young players don’t understand.

 

Being Misunderstood Doesn’t Mean You’re Blameless

I also don’t tell these stories anymore to make myself the victim.

When I was younger, I probably would’ve looked at it that way. Now I can acknowledge my role.

If Sonny invited me somewhere and I skipped classes, that’s on me. If Howard Garfinkel personally called my house because he wanted me at Five-Star and I disappeared instead of communicating with him, that’s on me. Even if my intentions weren’t disrespectful, I gave people reasons to misunderstand me.

That’s an important distinction.

Sometimes you aren’t a bad kid. Sometimes you’re immature. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable communicating. Sometimes you don’t understand the business surrounding your talent. Sometimes adults interpret those things as attitude or disrespect.

And once that label gets attached to you, it’s difficult to remove.

 

What Sonny and Garfinkel Meant to Western Pennsylvania Basketball

That’s also why I appreciate what Sonny Vaccaro and Howard Garfinkel represented more today than I did as a teenager.

They helped connect players to a basketball world much bigger than their hometowns. Five-Star became a proving ground for generations of great players. ABCD became one of the premier stages in high school basketball.

For Western Pennsylvania players, having access to people like Sonny and Garfinkel mattered.

This wasn’t an area overflowing with national basketball attention. Football was king.

So when basketball people with national influence knew who you were, believed in you and opened doors for you, you needed to understand how valuable that was.

I didn’t. Not enough, anyway.

 

Talent Gets You Noticed. Relationships Matter After That.

That’s probably the biggest lesson I took from all of it.

I used to hate the political side of basketball. I still don’t love it. But I’m old enough now to understand the difference between “politics” and relationships. You shouldn’t need connections to overcome a lack of talent. But when everybody at a certain level is talented, relationships and reputation absolutely matter.

Sonny Vaccaro knew basketball people everywhere. Howard Garfinkel knew basketball people everywhere. John Miller knew basketball people everywhere. Mike White’s words reached basketball people everywhere. Those were four relationships that could’ve been tremendous assets for a young player from Western Pennsylvania.

Instead, for one reason or another, I never really developed those relationships the way I could have.

That’s not me blaming them. That’s me finally understanding it.

 

What I Would Tell the Young Drew Schifino

If I could talk to that teenage kid today, I’d tell him something simple: Go to the damn drills.  Go to class. Shake people’s hands. Return phone calls. Explain yourself instead of disappearing.

If somebody who has spent decades in basketball sees something in you, don’t assume they’ll always see it. Show appreciation. Build relationships. And understand that the adults opening doors for you don’t have to do it. Most importantly, don’t confuse being misunderstood with having no responsibility for how people perceive you.

I know now that I wasn’t always the person people thought I was. But I also know I didn’t always give them enough reasons to think differently.

That’s growth.

At 17 or 18, I thought basketball was about proving everybody wrong. As a grown man, I understand sometimes it’s about giving the right people a chance to know you in the first place. And if I understood that back then?

My basketball journey might have looked a little different.