The time had come. Only two wins stood between my son and his 7th grade basketball team’s quest for a 2nd straight championship, a 3rd straight undefeated season (no playoffs in 5th grade). Saturday night 730pm was the time for the semifinals. Loyola High School was the venue. Time to play ball.
My son and I talk a lot of basketball. Whether it’s observations about his game, comparisons between players/teams, suggestions about the game at hand, or simple words of encouragement, we’re zoned in. My wife enters this zone too, especially on the car rides to and from the games for our pre & post game shows. For this final weekend of the season, it was no different… well, almost no different. My son didn’t want a pre-game show for Saturday; I could tell he was nervous. We talk about that too. I tell him, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous; this is a natural feeling in a big moment, especially when it’s something you really care about. Don’t be scared… that’s different. Nervous though… that’s OK. I was hoping he would channel those nerves when the game started. I’m sure when we started telling him about all the family that would be there for this one, the nerves increased. My dad, my sister and her family, my mother-in-law, brother-in-law, and wife’s aunt and uncle… it was a full house, and that’s not even mentioning all the support we’d have from the school on this evening. I told him… none of that matters. Doesn’t matter where you play, how many people are there, who is there… when the game starts, it’s all about your team and what happens ON the court. What happened next was an out-of-body experience…
The boys started slowly, like they do from time to time; the game was close after one quarter, and even within striking distance at the half; the 2nd half was a different story. The one leading the charge this time was my son. To say he was in a zone would be putting it lightly. This kid started playing like a mad man. His dribbling was strong, impressive. He dribbled through the press, kept it going along the top, kept the ball moving. His quickness was on display in full force, both with the ball and on the defensive side of things. His passing was sharp. And oh yeah, he couldn’t miss a fricking shot. He missed his first three point attempt; he made 5 of the next 6, including, I believe 3 in a row down the stretch. I may be mixing up the details a bit, since I think I blacked out for a second… haha… but there were a couple where he held his follow through arm up in the air as the ball splashed through the net. I think it was his 4th three pointer, when he turned and started running down the court BEFORE it went in; he knew it was good. The final one? How about a heat check, pull-up from the logo? You bet your ass it went in, with a nice friendly bounce on his high arcing shot. He wanted to keep going, but as he lit up the scoreboard, the game became a blow out… coach told the team to pump the brakes; he told my son, OK enough… haha. He wanted one more… The final score was 49-19; my son had as many points as the other team. 19 points was his 2nd highest point total of his school career. Considering all that we watched that evening from him, including the fact that we were in the semifinals… I think he’d agree, this was his best game ever.
Whew! After the final whistle blew, I felt like I was floating, as I stumbled across the court towards everyone who came to the game that evening. My wife jumped up; I kissed and hugged her. I don’t think either one of us could believe what we just saw; I guess we should know better. I knew he had it in him; it was great to see it on display in this big moment, a shining moment for my son, in a big game, in front of a nice crowd full of family and friends. Still, I didn’t want to go too crazy… considering there was still work to be done. Semifinals, check; finals on Sunday afternoon. Time to finish the job.
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