One of my son’s best friends turned 20 yesterday-- a great kid, no longer a kid any more. And that means my own son will be 20 in just a few short months. Wow! How did that happen so fast. It got me reflecting on things even more. And one thing that came to mind was one of the times I was most proud of him.
When he was in elementary school in one way or another I coached his youth basketball teams. When he moved on to junior and then senior high school he was in the hands for more experienced coaching but I missed the participation. One year while he was younger, I suggested we both coach a youth basketball team and we volunteered.
He must have still been in junior high at the time because he wasn’t all that much taller than the fourth and fifth graders we were coaching. I tried to stand back and let him do as much of the coaching as he would.
One night after practice he started playing a kid one on one. Pretty soon it was two on one and then three and so on until there were seven of them. And he beat them. I had always thought he needed to be more aggressive on the basketball court so almost every time he came into a game after that I would shout “seven on one” to kind of remind him of a time he played aggressively.
But that wasn’t the proudest moment. This team developed slowly, they lost their first four or five games until they began to come together. Then they played the best team in the league on a Saturday of Super Bowl weekend. They took that team into two overtimes before losing by a single point. A couple of people in the crowd said it was probably the best game they would see all weekend. The kids were disappointed of course but I told them they had just taken the best team in the league to its limit; it was the best game they had ever played and that now they KNEW they could beat anyone. They didn’t lose another game.
The moment came during the championship game. At a crucial point in the fourth quarter on a key inbounds play we called a time out. As the team gathered, my son gave me a glance, like “I’ll take it from here.” I stood back and let him do it. Then with the team circled around him, he designed a play with his finger drawing it on the floor. The team gathered for a cheer before they went back in. (This is an aside. Instead of hollering “Defense” or “Win” or some other thing, my teams always hollered something like “Double Fudge Brownies.” Youth basketball is supposed to be fun to begin with, and secondly it seemed to loosen them up -- they’d go out onto the court laughing and win.)
Anyway, after a “Triple-thick Milkshake!” they ran out onto the court, executed my son’s designed play perfectly and went on to win the championship. After the game one parent told me it was so cool watching him take over the team like that.
I have one regret from that day. The winning coach gets to make a speech. I complimented the other team for a great season and a great game and introduced each of our players with a compliment for each as well. But, I neglected to introduce my son and point out his contribution to the effort. I had the greatest assistant coach a guy could ever have: his own son, and was so proud of him but somehow skipped over him in that speech and have always wished I could go back and make the speech again, this time recognizing the greatest assistant coach ever. It was such a great experience, except for that.
Perhaps this made up for it a little. It is customary for the parents to give some token to the coach after the season. They bought us each gift certificates to a local restaurant. In the card with his, one parent wrote: "Thank you for being such a good role model for our boys."
And, now he is going to be 20.
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