Hoops: The journey ends...

What follows is a reprint of the blog from over a year ago -- February 28, 2010. It's perhaps the column we are proudest of. Other than the Thanksgiving and Christmas ones, it's our All Time Favorite. We run it today because The Playmaker's basketball season ended today. The Nets suffered their third straight loss and finished 7-5. We lost 24-22. The Playmaker had 10 points. Unfortunately, we couldn't coach today -- our school was doing a Saturday snow-day makeup session. (No sheeeet.) It was a season that started with such promise (3-0 and then 7-2), but ultimately we could not close out tough games. Indeed, four of our five losses were by a combined 10 points. (Again, no sheeeet.) So tomorrow we go back to the gym and begin to rebuild. There was no one in the league this year (3rd grade or a year above in 4th) who got to the rack like 3rd grade Playmaker did. The problem was he got there so effortlessly that he hardly every took a shot outside six feet. And as The Legend spread, opposing coaches began to put their tallest player on him and that basically screwed him. So tomorrow we will head to the gym, with Mr. D tagging along to observe. Thirty minutes of nothing but shots from 10-15 feet. That will be followed by 30 minutes of one-on-one with a chalk semi-circle drawn on the court 10 feet from the hoop. There are but two rules: first to 11 hoops wins. And no shooting inside the semi-circle.

We will not go 7-5 again next season.

Enjoy the flashback:


Sunday, February 28, 2010
A somber game followed by a friendly night...

Things don't always go as planned. Sad but true.

Take yesterday, for example.

When we last met, we were on our way to Mr. D's house for coffee and egg whites. Problem is, errr, was, that we were operating on about 4 hours sleep (long story). So we texted The Man and told him we would see him later that night for the BIG high school tournament game the locals were in. A few minutes later he texted back and said he would pick us up for the game around 5. (Dude travels in a suh-weet Lexus SUV.) And with that we went back to bed for 2 hours.
Fast forward to The Playmaker's 12:30 basketball game. The Bucks throttled another opponent. The score was 50-12. (Repeat: 50-12!) And no, we did not run up the score. We were missing one of our 10 players, yet we never double shifted The Playmaker or our second best player. Plus, after about 15 minutes we made our kids pass the ball three times before shooting. The Playmaker notched his second double-double of the season. He went for 12 and 12 (6-10 shooting) and handed out 4 assists. We are now 7-0 on the season.

The second part of our day did not come off as well. Actually, it did not come off well at all. Our Town HS Basketball Team lost its tournament game, 74-70. They had a 5 point lead with 6 to play and could not hold on. We sat with Mr. D. (We piled The Playmaker, The Playmaker's Sister and her friend into the back of the Lexus.) Confession time. Mr. D and The Star Player's Dad (introduced in last week's post titled The torch will one day be passed ... "In about 10 years this sheeet will all be yours, and you'll be the one standing here in my shoes." ) are the same person. When the game was over, he looked physically wiped. He stood for a long time and applauded his son and the team. Then he made his way down to the court where he found his boy and wrapped him up in a bear hug. The Son cried into his father's arms for close to 20 seconds before he joined the handshake line. The Star Player's Dad talked to a few of the other parents on the team before making his way back to us. "Let's get the hell outta here," he said quietly.

We envisioned a silent (and somber) ride home. Even the three kids realized the situation and did not not make a peep as we walked back to the car. Once on the road, however, Mr. D asked about getting some dinner. We assumed he was just being polite. Surely he would want to get home and be with his wife (she had travelled to the game with other neighbors) as they awaited the return of their son. We pointed out it was past the kids' bedtime. (It was past 9 at this point.) The Man asked The Playmaker, "Your mom's at a party, right?" (Our wife was attending a party at the home of a co-worker.)

"Yep," said our son.

"What time do you think she will be home?"

"Probably late."

"So then she'll never know that you went to bed late, right?"

"Yep," said our son.

Mr. D laughed. The Playmaker laughed. The girls laughed. Finally, we laughed, too.

Twenty minutes later we were picking up Chinese food. We headed back to Mr. D's house. Mrs. D was already there when we walked in. She was drinking a glass of wine. It was obvious she had been crying. She patted The Playmaker on the head and gave us a hug. We introduced the girls to her. Then she disappeared into the kitchen with the food. Mr. D went and got juice boxes for the kids and beers for each of us. We all sat on the floor of the family room and ate. No one talked about the game. Instead, The Man asked The Playmaker about his game. "We won, 50-12," was all he said. "Holy cow!" screamed Mr. D before we quickly interjected that The Playmaker had bagged a double-double, 12 and 12. The Star Player's Dad took a long drag of his beer and said simply, "Well done. Very well done." He finished his beer and looked at the three kids. He told them how there would come a day when they were all in high school and playing in a Big Game. "Enjoy the moment," he said. "Because it will end quickly." We're pretty sure the meaning of his lecture was lost on the kids. In fact, we got the feeling he was saying it more for his own benefit.

There was an awkward silence that followed. It quickly ended when Mr. D asked, "How about some more food? And another beer for the dads." Another round of eating and drinking ensued. The TV eventually was turned on. The Man asked Michael what he wanted to watch. Syracuse and Villanova was his answer. Mr. D looked over at us and smiled. "That's awesome." Eventually we asked where The Son was. Mrs. D said, "He and some of the guys on the team are having a sleepover at a player's house. I think they need to do some venting." She left the room. Mr. D quickly looked over at us and said quietly, "This will be their venting." He cocked his arm in the ever familiar drinking pose. And then he gave us a wink.

It was our turn to say, "That's awesome."

We clinked beer bottles and watched the game on TV.