Sadly, I never connected to the game as a player the way that I could have. I played most of my high school career with varying levels of success. No one would ever accuse me of being especially good at it, but I kept going out for the team mainly because basketball had been so prevalent in my life for so long that it had become a part of the skin I was wearing.
Looking back at the basketball playing memories that have stayed with me, very few of them have anything to do with playing the actual game. I remember that freshman year Coach Cue started me at point guard for our first game of the season. We were in Wells in that dark gym/auditorium and I must have looked shocked because he said, "What's the matter?" I told him that until that moment I had only ever played post. He said, "you probably could have mentioned that before!" But he started me there nonetheless. That year I learned to see the court from the front half of it for the first time. I also remember that I was a real thorn in the poor man's side all season. During a frustrating practice where our team (me) was doing everything wrong and we (I) had to do it over and over again, I leaned against the wall in the gym and inadvertently shut off all the gym lights. I flipped them back on of course, but in Blue Earth's old junior high gym the lights needed time to "warm up." There was tense silence, followed by a deep sigh. It must have taken a supreme amount of control for Coach to dismiss us for the day and only glare at me as I walked by instead of throttling me as I probably deserved.
When senior year rolled around, I'm sorry to say that I decided to stop playing ball. There is a long and complicated reason for that, which I won't elaborate on today. But the short answer is that it had stopped being fun. All the wonderful parts of the sport had become lost for me and I decided I needed to be finished. My dad bore it well; he never pressed me or pushed me to stay. I credit my parents over and over for always being able to see what I needed and set their own feelings aside - there are many examples of that in my life and I feel so lucky for that. I turned in my practice jersey one cold November afternoon and went home after school with an odd sense of detachment.
Coach Cue found me the next morning. He didn't ask me to reconsider - he asked me instead to help him coach the freshman team. I was so surprised - the thought had never occurred to me before. That moment became a pivotal moment in my life. I am certain I would have never looked at a basketball court again after high school were it not for that invitation.
The first time I sat next to him on the bench during a game, he leaned over and discussed coaching decisions with me the entire game. That was the first time I realized how much more there was to the game of basketball than my limited experience as a player had afforded me. I began to see offensive patterns developing, I saw defensive weaknesses, I learned that chemistry on the floor is more important than individual skill. It was like getting a new pair of eyeglasses - I could see the basketball world so much more clearly from the sideline and a whole new passion emerged in me. I found that I could talk basketball with my dad on a completely different level, bringing me even closer to him through coaching than being a player ever could.
I helped Coach Cue for the first time in 1993; I have coached a basketball team every single winter since that year - for 23 years now - and learned something new every single year. When I got to college I looked up the local high school coach and volunteered my services. That opened the door to get a position as a 6th grade traveling coach for a local Wisconsin program. After college I landed back in Blue Earth for a year where Coach Cue hired me back again as his freshman coach. When I moved to Colorado and found my first teaching position, Robert Crowther took me under his wing as the Varsity Assistant Coach. That was especially challenging; Colorado basketball is vastly different from Minnesota basketball. It took me three or four years to get that entirely figured out - especially that trademark match-up zone he so masterfully commanded. Coming back home, I was worried I would have to wait a while to find a place in a program; I shouldn't have been concerned. Between the CER youth programs I do three times a year, the school ball program where I've coached every single level from 7th grade to assistant varsity, and the traveling association programs, I have had my fill of basketball.
I've had some special players over the years, special seasons and important milestones in coaching. For the last three years, I've been especially lucky to coach my own daughter's traveling team for basketball. I was worried about that a little; my dad never coached one of my teams. Each time I reached his level, he swapped positions with another coach in the program. I really really wanted him to coach me - but he always felt that it wouldn't be fair either to me or to the other players. I've been really mindful of that, coaching Emma. I've tried to be as impartial and careful as I can be when it comes to her and the team. I hope I've done well, though there was one embarrassing moment when I jumped up and hollered "Emma Ruth!" at her when she picked up another unnecessary foul. I have to restrain myself from using the middle name anywhere outside of our house.
This team of 18 wonderful girls has been the highlight of these last three years. I've loved watching them develop - I remember when they could barely dribble and walk at the same time and now they can run complex plays and transition the floor almost autonomously. I made a promise to myself and a commitment to their parents that I would care more about their development than I do about their wins. We divide evenly into teams every single week, every girl gets exactly the same opportunity to learn every position and to learn every skill. I've never divided them into A and B teams - the day you tell a girl that she is a "B" player is the day she stops believing she can ever be more than that. I know that time is coming, but I just don't believe in doing that when they are still young and growing and learning.
This philosophy has had so many benefits: they get along with each other on an exceptional level. Believe me, I have coached girls for a LONG time and that is a rare thing. When they show up to every practice and know that I'm going to work them exactly the same, treat them exactly the same, and give every girl exactly the same opportunity, the impulse to compete AGAINST each other is replaced with a drive to compete collaboratively WITH each other - and that's a game-changer. And believe it or not, this whole fairness thing has resulted in wins - both teams win, they win a lot, they come home with lots of hardware and the best part is that I don't have a clear top and a clear bottom. I have lots and lots of good athletes - the higher skilled players set the bar and the lower skilled players strive to meet the expectation - and I don't think they even have any idea that's what's happening.
Next year, however, they will be 7th graders. Their school ball team will divide them, and I have no idea how or what will happen when that happens. I don't know if everyone will stay out, I don't know if anyone will be disappointed or upset with the outcome - I have no control over it. I hope that whatever happens they will look back on these three years as fondly as I do. We've laughed and been silly and been sad and weathered bad refs and terrible fouls and concession stand food together. We have a million pictures of a million beautiful moments and I'm going to treasure them.
I'm currently coaching the 8th grade school ball team, so I will probably get them back in a year or so, for one last hurrah before I send them to the high school program. I feel like I'm handing over my cherished possessions and hoping that the high school receives them with the same love I've poured into them. They will be a fun group to watch - up and comers with skill and purpose and the best sense of teamwork I've seen in a long while. May they be successful, may they stay together, may they love each other, may they continue to work hard and love this game. And may I have the strength to let them go.
No comments:
Post a Comment