#238 - LE

As the mother of three boys, I have dealt with my fair share of athletic coaches.  My boys have played tennis, football, flag football, soccer, basketball, baseball, and done Tae Kwon Do.  Some coaches have been good (Hi Mr. Bubby) and some have really, really been bad (like the girl who coached Seth T-ball with knee socks, short shorts, and braids).  This post is about one who stands out to me.

He was Zack's basketball coach for one season in a local church league that we played in.  I think he may have also been Blake's coach a few years before that, but the year that he coached Zack stands out, reason being was that he was battling cancer throughout the entire season and either did not know, or did not let us know.  As soon as the season was over, he started treatment, and I believe he is in the clear now.  The reason that he stands out is because he was able to channel the energy of 8 or 9 rowdy little eight year old boys on the basketball court.  He taught them how to dribble at the same time he was teaching them how to play fair.  He reminded them how to be a team player while teaching them how to sink a free throw.  That winning is not as important as being a good sport, and that at the end of the day how you act is more important than how many points you score.

This is how Jeff and I feel about sports at this age.  It should be fun.  It should be challenging enough that they are learning something.  It doesn't matter if you win or not, but you better shake hands and mean it at the end of the game.  I am constantly amazed at the parents who do not feel the same way.  This only gets worse as they get older.  I guess this is why #238's easy way struck a chord with me.  I hope that his health has improved and I hope he knows how much I (and I am sure many other parents) appreciate his commitment to my child and his team.  Zack will never be able to tell anyone how many games they won that year, but the lessons that he learned on how to be a team player will help him for the rest of his life both in sports and in business.

For all you parents out there who may have forgotten, here is a poem that my dad gave me when my 14 year old was about 6.  I kept it in my filing cabinet (this was prior to emails) and I just found it the other day.  It's about baseball, not basketball, but you'll get the drift...

He Is Just A Little Boy

by Chaplain Bob Fox

He stands at the plate

with his heart pounding fast.

The bases are loaded,

the die has been cast.

Mom and Dad cannot help him,

he stands all alone.

A hit at this moment

would send the team home.

The ball meets the plate,

he swings and he misses.

There's a groan from the crowd,

with some boos and some hisses.

A thoughtless voice cries,

"Strike out the bum."

Tears fill his eyes,

the game's no longer fun.

So open your heart and give him a break.

For it's moments like this

a man you can make.

Please keep this in mind

when you hear someone forget

                                  He is just a little boy, and not a man yet.