Basketball..

So last night Noah and I decide to go down to the gym and play a game of hoops. We show up and find that there are a few people already on the court playing a game of pick up basketball. Coolness. It's pretty fun to play basketball with your son. On one hand, I say "pretty" because it's not always entirely "fun". I think I have a propensity to suck the fun out of the game pretty quickly for a few basic reasons:

1. I'm uber competitive. I don't know where it comes from but I can seriously be the worst player on the court and still feel like I need to dominate like MJ. Problem is, it usually turns out in reverse and good ol' JM shows up. Sans domination.

2. I'm uber involved with Noah's learning of basketball. Reading between the lines: I love playing basketball. I love my son. I love my son playing basketball. Maybe it's overboard when you point out how he can get better every single time we go shoot around. I don't know. Shoot me.. he's my son and it's a whole lot of fun to watch him grow up and play. As long as it's playing well. :)

3. I'm uber. Everything about me is uber. I take things to the next level.. almost no matter what. If I'm going to get after it... I'm getting after it. the way I see it..if I'm playing the game I might as well play hard.

So back to the game...we start playing a simple 4 on 4 game full court. It sounds simple. It's not. I haven't played full court basketball in about, oh, 18 years. You read that right.. 18. I'm the guy that plays halfcourt.. if that, and even that was about 17 years ago. I've played in little pick up games but those are the kind that last about 7 points and everyone is out of breath and reaching for their oxygen masks. Full court basketball in a crowded gym is not, not even close to, the norm for me.

I realized a few things while playing in this particular game, not necessarily in any order:

1- Young guys in their early 20's with the latest Lebron James shoes have no respect for us older gentlemen. They don't slow down for us. They don't pass to us. They don't even look at us. They outrebound us. They outjump us. And they outscore us. I stay away from these types of players. But I do like them on my team. It's a love/hate thing.

2- Old guys like to punish 7th grade boys. It's the only thing I can think of. Watching my son drive to the basket only to get held and then hacked and then knocked down by some crazy 30 year old with two adolescent children stuffed inside his skin suit and promptly weighing 250 lbs. can only lead to one logical thought: 7th grade boys must be punished. Watching this as a dad can make you want to fight someone....sans Jesus.

3- It takes about 1.8 trips up and down the court to look like a tomato.

4- It's still fun to talk a little better than you play. Case in point.. this guy was guarding Noah. And mind you, he's the best player in the gym. He's not exactly Steve Nash but on this day he sure looked like it... cutting, passing, coming off screens, knocking down threes. So I move Noah over to this other guy that's exactly a foot taller than him so I can shut down (see attempt) his game.

It didn't happen. See #1.

Anyway, after turning into a complete rendition of the hot sun. My face, normally the color of the inside of an apple, now looks like it has a fresh cherry-red paint job.

And the paints not dry.

Either way, it was fun and I love playing ball with my son. I spent alot of time on the basketball court growing up. Whether it was in the front yard on the latest hoop my Dad would get for me or on the courts of Grace Community Church when I was 10. Or playing in high school for the league championship or just playing pick up ball in the old gym at Verdugo Park in Burbank with a crew of aspiring actors, comedians, and musicians all trying to kill time in between jobs as a 19-year old. Basketball became an escape of sorts. You could be whoever you wanted on the court, if you were good enough. If you weren't, you watched.

I've done my share of playing and watching. Now I have the privelege, by the grace of God, to play and watch alongside my son. To see him growing, doing well, having successes and experiencing failure. Playing hard and having fun. Well, "pretty" fun. :)

What a thrill. May I never forget the blessings of being a parent, by the grace of God.

Psalm 127:3-5
Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.