Star of the Day

"Shoot from the legs, aim with the wrist." That was the mantra I repeated to my son during his basketball season. Well, one of them, anyway. I also pushed the importance of lay-ups and that offensive rebounding is just as vital as defensive rebounding. But when I parted ways with him before a game, my final words were always the reminder on how to shoot.

Usually, he'd forget. The rush of the game takes over his brain, and in those moments when he would take a shot, it would be off-balanced and full-armed from the chest, getting all the arc of a straight line. I'd sigh from my seat in the stands, glad that, at least, he was a good defensive player. Not everybody can be a shooter. Not everybody can be the star.

It's a realization that is probably harder for a parent to deal with than the child-athlete, but I congratulated myself that I have managed to realize it (and am much more content to watch a game rather than critique it in progress). Still, I wanted him to have his moments. I wanted him to at least be an essential member of a team.

As the season progressed, I saw a maturation in my son, more so this year than in any other. With each game there was more confidence and even a little bit of a swagger. He knew his role on the team ("I rebound and block shots, Mom"), and he worked hard to improve himself. He also began to grow into his tall, skinny body, and he had more control over his arms and legs. Visions of basketball camp floated through my head (yeah, I still hoped to see him be a star).

The final game of the season was scheduled for Tuesday. The Saturday before, his team soundly beat one of the better teams in the league, a team consisting of many of my son's closest school friends. The coach announced that if they could win on Tuesday, against the top team, they would end the season tied for first.

Monday night, both of my kids came down with the stomach flu. Both stayed home from school on Tuesday. I debated the idea of taking my son to watch his team play - would that be too hard on him? But when I came home, he was dressed for the game. He said that he was feeling much better, and he promised to tell the coach that he had been sick and couldn't play as much as normal. "I don't want to let the team down, Mom," he said. I thought for a bit. Our family had had a rough month, with a death and illness and some other disappointments. Basketball was a good thing for my son right now. So we went.

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