Passing the Ball
I absolutely love the game of basketball. Watching it, talking about it, playing it (ok, not as much as I used to, nor with my younger, sports-playing body). I count down the days to the start of each season and dread the final game. It is one of my greatest joys that this passion for the game has been passed on to my boys. Hearing them play outside, the ball bouncing on the driveway, ricocheting off the hoop, the cheers and jeers that follow, makes my heart happy. I love that we can all share in the awesomeness of this game.
Last week, we had a “February Madness” of sorts, with Emmett’s fifth grade team playing in a post-season tournament. With three games in two days (even typing that makes me exhausted…THREE BASKETBALL GAMES!!), we had a fun-filled, energetic weekend…and I loved every minute of it. As with many sports at this level, there was a lot of lopsided play. You know the kind I’m talking about - one kid takes the ball down the court, that same kid dribbles all over trying to find an open teammate, maybe there’s a pass (and there’s a 95% chance it’s a bad pass and the ball gets stolen) or maybe, that same kid drives the lane for a bad lay-up or jacks one up from the 3-point line and misses by a mile. Basically, every possession was like Groundhog’s Day. As a spectator with a bird’s eye view, it’s easy to yell “pass it to the middle” or “he’s open on the wing” or “OMG…don’t shoot it AGAIN!!” But the reality is it’s much more difficult to watch the look on the remaining teammate’s faces, the kids who aren’t getting the ball, who are trying to get open (and succeeding!), who just want the chance to showcase what they can do. Running up and down the court for 40 minutes isn’t exactly what these kids signed up for.
Needless to say, we lost all three games that weekend. Not surprising, as no team can be a one-man show, nor should any kid be expected to carry the entire game. This team worked hard all season to play together, pass the ball, set up plays, but this weekend was different. We were down two players and an assistant coach, and the glue that had held the team together thus far had lost it’s stickiness. In short, it was a chaotic mess.
Fast forward to this past weekend where we played our final game of the post-season tournament. Our full team, including all of our coaches, was back together. Kids were subbed in and out on a regular schedule, played with more energy and enthusiasm, passed the ball, showed patience and set up plays. The team that had been built throughout the season had returned. And the results showed up on the scoreboard. It was glorious.
However, the final score isn’t the takeaway. Not for the team nor the spectators. What happened in the final seconds of the game is what will be remembered. You see, there was one boy on our team who rarely got the ball. He showed up every week to both practices and games, his headband perfectly placed, eyes focused, game face on. He was the kid you could always count on to show up, but who never really got the opportunity to showcase his skills. And even in all of the fifth grade show-boating, one-sided play, his teammates knew this about him. But with the clock ticking down, it wasn’t about who could be the best (newsflash: there are no Michael Jordans on this team), it became about who needed the ball. The final seconds of the game played out like this: the ball was played in and passed to this boy, he passed it back, it was passed back to him, he shot and missed, the ball was rebounded and passed back to him, he shot and was fouled. Every time the ball left this kids hands, it was immediately returned. He touched the ball more times in these final seconds than he had all season. This is the very definition of intentional play. With a mere five seconds left in the game, he stepped to the line, shot two shots and MADE ONE. His first point of the entire season. And his teammates went wild. As the buzzer sounded, the team rushed to this boy, patting him on the back, giving him high-fives, shouting “way to go!” The smile on his face was bigger than the final score. It was glorious.
I was so proud of this team and these boys. They’d moved from a team who only cared about winning to a team that cared about each other. And the beauty of this? It was unscripted, unplanned. They just knew what they needed to do. This is the glue I was talking about earlier. The stickiness had returned.
So to everyone out there struggling to “get the ball”, who can’t quite find their footing or their place on the team, don’t give up. Surround yourself with the people who will lift you up when the time is right and who will recognize your special abilities in spite of their own. Or better yet, challenge yourself to “pass the ball” to someone who always shows up, headband in place, eyes focused, game face on. We all have the chance to be the MVP. We just have to find a team willing to give us the ball.
