My Champion

The other day our 9 year old played in not his first but his second championship basketball game, he's only been playing for two seasons, good right? no, he's a hard worker, who loves basketball and just ends up with the best teammates ever. He's kind, believes in fairness, loves junk food, has a great head of hair, is extremely inquisitive, walks on his tippy toes and is a fabulous re-bounder. The other day after a game, he was given a compliment that he was the best re-bounder on his team. He was so offended by the compliment; he felt it was an insult to his teammates who play equally as hard.


As we drove to the club where he would face the team they beat twice in the regular season, needless to say he was pumped. He was getting advice from the left from his sister, from the right from his brother, from the back from his other brother, diagonally from his dad, from in front from his mom. He was pumped, we were pumped! It was going to be exciting as all his games are. Then his big sis who also plays basketball held his arm, looked him directly in the eye and said, all you have to do is your best, that's all you have to do. When the game is over, no matter what the outcome, you can walk off the court knowing that you've done your best." All coaching ended after that bit of advice.


From the moment our champion blue devil stepped onto the court the action was non stop. He was rebounding, stealing, shooting, grabbing, falling, dribbling, blocking shots, turning the ball over, calling for the ball, passing, high fiving and playing a defense that would shut Kobe and Lebron down, hands down. Yes, there are other members on the team and they are very talented, excellent players, but he's the only one that's my child hence, my focus.


It was his killer defense that provoked the player he was guarding to turn on him physically. This kid either the same age or maybe 10 but not older, began pushing, elbowing, and two hand jabbing our baby in the middle of his back. Notice how he went from champion to "our baby" ahahahaha, at first momma just chucked it up to maybe a hand check that was a bit aggressive, but after two, four, six times of the same thing and no whistle? momma's temperature immediately shot to no lower than 100 degrees. Still undeterred, our champion pushed through playing a more intense defense as the game was within two points scoring point for point at each end, oh it was intense, I know! 9 and 10 year olds? Who knew kids played basketball so well at this age. I mean they were shooting jumpers, three points, pump faking, the works.


The game was at, I think, maybe the 6:27 minute mark when one jab in particular brought out the Momma Mufasa and the female wolverine in me all at the same time, my internal temperature rose to about 107/108 degrees Fahrenheit immediately. I was about to either passout or wolf out.


It was then, the trumpet within better known as my voice bellowed for the ref to check the pushing and jabbing my son was repeatedly receiving from this other kid. Still, no whistle then I felt the claws I didn't know I had come out. All I saw was red as my head turned in the direction where this kid's parents sat. It was during this time as I was seeing red, everything also began moving in slow motion. As the world around me suddenly slowed down, the last and final break the camel's back jab came almost pushing our champion down as he was about to intercept a pass and then it think I wolfed out.


I would like to say my tone was kind and pleasing with a hint of volume to it, but it was NOT!  I know, once the ref heard my command to check the pushing, those words in his ears must've sounded and felt like he had received a thousand acidic laced lashes across his back. I think everyone in the gym including the kids heard me.


Thank the Lord, because it was also during this time I heard a voice, God's voice sounding,  very much like Mufasa's in my head saying, "rememba whooo you ah! I don't know how it happened, but as the world began moving in fast forward or at regular speed again, the clock was now at 2:47, I was on my feet with an internal temperature of about 110 degrees trying to hold it together for our champion, try very hard to model adult behavior for all the kids present especially our kids, as well as learning that our kids will face challenges other than facing the next best team on the league within their age bracket on the basketball court in life.

Championship award

Our champion's team lost the game by 4 points, all the kids received awards and were congratulated. When I got to the car I saw that he was crying. After some quiet time he asked, mommy did you see my defense? did you see how many rebounds I had?  did you see when my team mate scored that basket, did you see the amazing pass my teammate made at the last second? Not once did he mentioned that he was pushed by the kid that caused my temperature to rise. When his siblings brought it up, his response was yeah, I know, that kid kept pushing me but did you see my defense? Then he said, I am so tired, I played so hard, can we go get ice-cream to celebrate? and with that, we stood in the best soft serve ice cream line in the area for about 15 minutes.


What a champion! He didn't even know nor had a clue that his mom was about to pass out from internal overheating in the stands. At the end of the game, I did walk over to the kid's parents to let them know, that their son IS indeed an excellent ball player and congratulated them on the win. It was also at this time that  apologies were exchanged for becoming overly emotionally involved in the game.