Making the Team

One of my most poignant memories of high school is of making the basketball team. Actually, if the truth be known, my memories are of NOT making the team. You see, one of the gifts that I have been given is the gift of height. If you have seen me in person, then you know that I am six foot six inches tall. I have been this height since high school and therefore a “natural” to play basketball. As a matter of fact, people ask me to this day whether I played basketball. Perhaps being reminded so regularly has something to do with the reason that I remember the process of tryouts so vividly. As much as I am blessed with height, I am also blessed with slight. I am skinny now, but compared to my high school years, I am absolutely strapping. As a High Schooler, I dutifully tried out for the team year, after year, after year. And I was cut year, after year, after year. When I graduated from High School, I left the dream of making the team behind.

I got married, and had two daughters and suddenly my dream of making the dream was rekindled. Not for me of course, but for my kids. I married a tall woman and am blessed by beautiful and tall young children, who I thought, would certainly make the team. I had learned a few lessons from my own failure and I was committed to not having my children repeat them. I started them playing early. I coached their teams. I made sure they focused on fundamentals. I had them work out with weights. From my experience I had them do everything I thought would help them make the team. The week for tryouts came. My oldest daughter sacrificed her other activities for the week so that she would be able to give her all to making the team. The day for cuts came and she found out that…she didn’t make the team. I was devastated. She was devastated.

Looking back, I think that we were devastated for different reasons. I was devastated that she didn’t make the team because all of the planning and preparation that I had put into her making the team had resulted in failure. I was devastated by the failure. For her, she was devastated because I was devastated. Was she disappointed that she didn’t make the team? Of course she was. But she looked to me to find out if it was ok. Was not making the team an event that happens in life, like so many others, or was it a turning point in her life one from which she might never recover? She looked to me to find the answer to that question. I am sad to say that at that moment I saw it as a turning point in her life. I forgot that not making the team was only one experience in life out of the thousands that each of us experience each and every day.

The footnote to this story is that once again I, as an individual and parent, have gained perspective about basketball. I realize once again that basketball is just a game and that not making the team isn’t the end of life. Sure, my daughter may not get a scholarship to play basketball at Duke, but she will be able to live a happy and contented life whether or not she makes the basketball team or any other “team” in her life. I know that the same is true for me as well. If I don’t achieve a goal, or succeed in a way in which I think I should, that doesn’t have to be the end of my happiness. Our failures in life are opportunities for us to see that our perspective is what creates our happiness.