There was only a minute left on the clock, star player is down with an ankle injury, and my little e is sitting on the bench of his basketball playoff game. What unfolded next seemed like a scene from a disney channel movie. As I see the star player limp off the court, with a score of 22 to 22, I know it’s over. We’re down and now our main basket man is icing his ankle with almost no time left in the game, and just like that coach points to my e and the underdog jumps off the bench. It wasn’t until 40 seconds later that I realized fully what was happening–
Were under our net, we’ve got a weak dribbler and he’s passing my e the ball. My boy that has spent the entire game trying to block kids two feet taller and 30 pounds heavier. My e who hardly watches the ball because, what’s the point? The star player will never pass it to the hardly noticeable short kid in the corner, even though he’s shouting, “Im open.” My Golden State Warrior spent the entire basketball season begging a pass, and I spent every game warding off a sinking motherly heart.
BUT NOT TODAY. And that’s when I stood up. My boy had that ball and he was wide open for the perfect two-pointer, the two-pointer that could take his team to the championship game. It was the underdog and the net, and all he had to do was set it up just right, focus, and it was all his.
E’s not like the other boys who today, fueled with frustration, teared on the court. Balls slammed at refs fouls and travel calls–little e was just enjoying the game. Trying to soak in actually being on the court at all–having some play time.
And that’s why when he set up that shot, he was perfectly calm, a good shooter, finally given the chance. Looks , shoots, and swish, that ball went in without a touch of the rim. The stadium of hundreds stands up in cheers, I’m shaking and crying and screaming, “he did it!” Everyone turns to me to validate that, yes, my no-play-time son just made the perfect shot that put them up two points with 19 seconds left on the clock and their star player still icing his leg. Now they just have to keep them off, down the court, defense, 19-18 and then 5-4-3-2—-and 1. It’s done. Cheers, my boy carried across the court. hugs, you did it, MVP, more hugs.
Sometimes the most unlikely things happen, sometimes the short kid in the corner finally gets the ball. And sometimes, just sometimes, that kid takes his team to the championships.
a whit who’s going to be ridin’ on this victory for awhile. nothing but net.