I can’t say I got suckered into coaching my youngest son’s recreation league basketball team, but I got suckered into coaching my youngest son’s recreation league basketball team. Admittedly, it’s not the worst thing in the world. I have fond memories of my father coaching my basketball team when I was in fifth grade, and I played a TON of (organized team) basketball through my senior year in high school. So I have a solid handle on the basics, and I’m more than familiar with the drills. Now that the final practice is behind me, I’d like to think I did my father proud (and that my son will whitewash the memory by the time he’s in his forties).
Plus, I’ve been genuinely entertained at several different junctures. There are ten kids, all boys between the ages of nine and eleven. And I gotta say, they are enthusiastic about basketball. The stuff they try to pull off makes me wonder what sort of video clip is playing in their head the moment right before they attempt it.
During the final practice, one boy capped off a solid drive to the basket with something akin to a double axel from figure skating…except he wasn’t wearing any skates, he wasn’t on ice, and he nearly landed on his face. He was fine. No one was injured on the play (although if I had attempted such a move I’m pretty sure I would have broken my hip).
My guess is that in his mind’s eye he saw himself executing a breathtaking spin move before flying through the air with his tongue hanging out like Michael Jordon while passing the ball between his legs and then shattering the backboard with a dunk that would resound through the ages as the most popular lock screen background of 2022. Instead, he completed an entire rotation before landing on his face and losing the ball out of bounds. But hey, you can’t fault the kid for trying.
My second favorite moment of the final practice occurred when the same kid got boxed in under the basket. We were running some five-on-five full court (simulating a real game). He made a solid drive. The defense dropped off and removed his shot. He picked up his dribble and needed someone to pass the ball to. Three of his four teammates clustered together at the top of the key and started yelling his name ad nauseam. “I’m open, I’m open. Pass it to me!”
After about five solid Mississippis of listening to everyone scream this poor kid’s name, I blew the whistle and had everyone freeze in place. I asked the red jersey team (the one currently with the ball) to assess the situation. They managed the first part of the diagnosis pretty well. The ball handler had driven under the basket, didn’t have a shot, picked up his dribble, and now needed to pass the ball…to me, no, to me. No, no, to me!
The problem was three members of the red jersey team had been fighting over playing at the top of the key in the point guard position. I had put all three of these kids on the same team on purpose and simply said, “I want to see some teamwork” whenever they questioned me about who would get to play point. After repeating, “teamwork, teamwork, teamwork,” for five minutes, here we were.
I asked all three point guards how in the world they expected to the get the ball while clumped together at the top of the key. It just so happened the backside of the paint was totally vacant of defenders, so I asked them, “What do you think is the best way to get the ball right now?”
They rolled their eyes and responded in unison, “Cut to the basket.” I nod emphatically and repeat the same mantra I introduced in the first practice, “Spread out, pass, and cut. That’s how you are going to get easy, open shots.” I end the teachable moment by yelling, “black jerseys’ ball! Let’s run it!”
But it’s just so hard, isn’t it? We all want the ball. I hear it all the time. “No one ever passes me the ball.” I nod my head and shrug my shoulders. It’s gotta start with someone. Someone has to pass and cut. That someone might as well be you. It might as well be me. Standing around and yelling, “I’m open,” doesn’t get anyone anywhere. But then again, I suppose it depends on whether we consider life to be an individual thing or a team one.
At the Desk This Week
I’m currently searching for large scale purpose and reason in life. So I’ve been wandering around helping strangers and such. Just seeing if I can be offensively helpful and see if it leads to any entertaining trouble of a purposeful sort. So far, I’ve learned that most real people aren’t engaged in political hooha. They’re just trying to survive the grind. All that to say I’ve been avoiding my desk lately in an effort to connect with the real world. I’ll keep all those interested in the loop.
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