By Ray Glier
It’s 95 degrees. It’s 3 in the afternoon. My 11 year old is outside shooting jumpers.
I was overjoyed.
There were a couple of things going on. Somebody told him sixth-graders don’t make the middle school team. So if he is not too worn out from baseball (he’s a catcher) he will go shoot and shoot and shoot and have a different answer for them come November and workouts.
That’s good. Don’t take “no” for an answer.
Then I saw something else. He worked on a crossover, then between the legs. He dribbles right and shoots left (don’t ask me how that happened) so he decided to practice shooting right and dribbling.
That’s good. Initiative.
So, of course, I tried to ruin it all one day by preaching. I started with the bit that it was great he was not going to let anyone tell him he was not good enough for the middle school team. Then I remarked about the initiative. He was doing things on his own, like dribbling with his off-hand.
I got a nod from him after I finished my Dad 101 stuff … and then I got scolded.
“You know, Dad, it’s fun, too” he said.
That’s right. Don’t forget that. There is a part of the equation here in kids’ play that some of us who have talented athletes just lose sight of. We’re thinking about getting ahead, they are thinking fun. We’re thinking the next step, they’re thinking, “No worries, I’m shooting basketball.”
We (I) heap on too much pressure sometimes. He said he likes to be pushed and reminded about fundamentals – but only sometimes. There are a lot of other times where he wants to be left alone.
We should probably trust our kids more. Let them decide when to drop the hammer and push themselves. We all worry, “If I just would have done this …”
Eventually, it comes down to the kid.
If you’re not overjoyed, you should be.
