Courage

There we were smack dab in the center of the noisy YMCA gym.  There were screaming parents, coaches, and pee wee basketball players in all directions.  Against my better judgment I signed up my 3 almost 4 year old for pee wee basketball AND to top it off I volunteered my husband to be the coach.  Their first practice/game was this week.  There was a tiny bit of anxiety swirling around in my already cluttered brain in the weeks leading up to game one.  My concerns were mostly for my husband coaching the 7 little pee wees with nothing more than his fantastic high school basketball career and the title of "daddy" to the youngest pee wee on the team. 

I received a lot of encouragement from veteran pee wee parents and the nice lady from the Y who called to "beg'' us to volunteer to be the coach.  How hard could this be?  My husband chooses to avoid all interpersonal communications or "chit-chat" as he calls it.  Therefore, I am the Public Relations representative in this family.  I knew I didn't know a thing about coaching basketball, but I could be obedient to the meager instructions from the email send by nice YMCA lady.  I called all the parents to introduce myself/my husband-The Coach.  Then I googled coaching Pee Wee basketball and came up with all kinds of strategies.  We could do this!

On the big day all forces were at work against us.  I tried to give my little pee wee a nap knowing that would ensure more cooperation in his big new adventure.  Alas, no nap.  He seemed to be working up to a dooser of a sleep deprived melt down, but I tried to reassure myself that maybe he was past that stage.   He was ready for the big league of YMCA team sports I kept telling myself.  As the clock ticked down I re-read the googled pee-wee basketball drills and said a little prayer.   I told the coach he had to be home by 5 p.m. so we could be there by 5:20 to pick up the team t-shirts and get our game faces on .  I agreed to watch a friends little boy after school who would be picked up by 5 p.m.  No problem!  We could do this. 

Now, it is a whirlwind in my mind.  I remember the clock ticking loudly to 5:15 p.m.  The coach swooped in and loaded the pee wee and his older brother to race to the YMCA.   I made a split second decision and stayed behind with my little after school charge and put in a frantic call to Grammy for a ride since the coach raced away in our only vehicle.  At this point I could feel the blood pumping in my ears, but I remained calm.  My friend did not show up to collect her son, so I threw him in the back seat of grammy's car along with my princess Lydia.  We were off at 6 p.m. sharp.  I could make it for the last 30 min. 

Then the call came in from the COACH.  He said some to the effect that "this is a joke-and we are on our way home."  Yikes!  "Remain calm" I chanted to myself as the blood pumped louder and harder.  At this point it was a scene from I love Lucy as I traded phone calls back and forth with the Coach and the mom whose child I was babysitting.  All this while Grammy was driving around my little three person circus and not complaining even once.  I passed the coach as we were pulling into the YMCA parking lot.  He reluctantly turned around and parked.  I tried to steady my voice as I calmly asked, who is coaching the team?  He assured me that some mom had jumped in to save the day.  She is forever my hero!  My little pee wee with swollen red eyes showed me his new orange t-shirt with the big number 4 on the back and asked me to go play basketball with him.  I quickly and politely shuffled my friends little boy , who at this point thinks he is coming to the Y to shoot some hoops, into his waiting father's truck. 

My stomach was churning as I tried to enthusiastically help my pee wee and the coach out of the van and back into the gym.  I could sense their anxiety, which seemed to be feeding off each other.  I knew the coach would rather paint his toenails pink than coach a pee wee team.  I also knew that my pee wee just wanted to play some basket ball with his family and would be complete overwhelmed with all the noise and chaos of team sports.  I chose this for them and I felt responsible.   

Remember my hero, the mom who saved the day.  Well, she was a genius with my pee wee.  She helped him get over his anxiety and helped pull him from the sidelines.  She made sure he got to have the ball and he even made a shot.  I wish I could have got a picture of his face as he ran back and forth with his team.  He was crying and scowling, but couldn't resist the fun he was starting to have.  The coach is my secret hero in this whole business.  He later shared with me that he was the recipient of the epic meltdown I knew was coming from pee wee.  The coach did his best to face his fears and coach the pee wees, but our little pee wee was screaming and crying and refused to be comforted.  He shared with me that at one point Rider tried to make a shot and another pee wee stole the ball out of his hand.  He said I knew at that point it was over and there was no turning back.  Both coach and pee wee share a dislike for lots of noise and commotion and social situations, especially new ones. 

As I stood there feeling piously mortified my feelings changed to humilty.  I felt humbled by the weakness of two of the loves of my life.  At first I couldn't understand why they couldn't just get over it, whatever it may be, and make the best of things.  I realized that I had shoved them into this situation.  They trusted me enough to follow along with my hair-brain scheme and I felt like I had let them down.  I also felt very proud of each of them for doing the hard things in life.  It made me think of the talk that I mentioned,  Living the Abudant Life by President Thomas S. Monson.  He concludes this talk with  "Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, “I’ll try again tomorrow.”"  To this I say amen and my thoughts exactly.   As for pee wee basket ball, we shall see what the future holds.