Today was a tough day for my little basketball player. He would resent that I called him little but if you saw his team mates and the other players, its a fitting description. He is the shortest, scrawniest player on his team. However, there are other ballers who are as short as he is on other teams so that is some consolation to both of us.
When it is his time to play, the coach matches players by size, so BB is matched up with other short players. However, sometimes that is not good because these other little guys can really hustle and BB has a hard time keeping up with them. And I have come to realize that my boy is not an aggressive player, nor is he terribly energetic. He sort of meanders his way down the court, sort of shuffling along, while the coach is shouting, "BB Hustle!"
Basketball, I have also come to realize, is far more complicated than I had ever realized. It takes a lot of concentration and focus. Not only does the baller have to know where the basketball is, he has to know where his person to guard is and keep a handle on the other players as well as make a play to pass, rebound or shoot. It's fast paced and there are lots of skills.
My realization today is that it may be too much for my kid. However, we have another month of practices and games and I want him to finish because I do believe that it is a good lesson to finish what you start and he is learning a lot about being on a team, even if he is not the best player.
Oh but my heart was aching for him today. He was struggling so much. He just could not get his head in the game and his team mates where giving him directions about where to stand. At times he looked confused then he looked frustrated and embarrassed. I had tears in my eyes and I wanted to run over and scoop him up and make it better for him. However, I also realized that my Mom-reaction would not make it better. This was one of those things that I was going to have to let him just tough out.
At one point, he actually got the ball and was dribbling away. But he started heading toward the other team's basket. His team started yelling at him, "Wrong way...wrong way." And he dropped the ball and slid across the floor. When he got up, his cheeks were red hot. I tried to make eye contact with him but he just looked down at the floor.
The game lasted only about 1 more minute. He came over and I could tell he still looked upset. I wrapped my arms around him and said, "Everyone makes mistakes. It's OK."
He just shook his head and walked out. I know I can't make it better. I can't make him a better basketball player. I can't make his team mates like him more. The only thing I can do is tell him that I believe in him and that I am proud of him no matter what.
I caught up with him outside and got down to his eye level, "Sweetheart, maybe you aren't the best basketball player and that is OK. But I am proud of you. You go to every practice and every game. You work hard. You keep trying. You have perseverence. Sometimes other kids only see the scoreboard but I see the effort and I see the changes inside you. And that is what is really going to count."
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