I was the youngest of five boys and also had four sisters who had to pull together and take care of each other. Dad wasn't around, so I never knew him well. He killed himself when I was three years old, leaving mom with the job of raising nine kids. She was a very hard worker, and in order to make ends meet, she hardly ever rested. With my mom as my example, I learned that hard work is the best way to get what you want. Even as a little boy, I knew I was going to be successful. Regardless of what I chose, I wanted to make my brothers, sisters and mom proud of me--not only by being successful in what I chose to do, but also as a person who could be looked up to for the right reasons. Surprising as it might seem, basketball wasn't in my plans. One day, my mom cut a rim  off an old water barrel  and then held it up for me to throw an old rubber ball through. By junior high, I started playing basketball on a team. I loved to compete. For me, it paid off. I always put the effort in, every day. I am grateful for the life I've enjoyed as a basketball star. Basketball is not life. It can be exciting. But the most important thing about basketball is that it gives me a way to do good things for others as I move through this journey called life. Why did the author's father kill himself?
Because the family was poor. Because he often quarreled with his wife. Because he was seriously ill. The passage didn't tell us the reason.