Now, I appreciate every second of every day and completely realize my blessings, even if at times I grow weary, but today stands out a little more above the rest. Because, today my son, Brendon, who LOVES playing basketball made his first, ever, basket in a game- the third game of his third season. Brendon is met with several slight challenges as result of the perinatal stroke he endured - cerebral palsy (specifically, right hemiparesis). As of late, he has been dealing with a tightness, in his right leg, that is pretty common in a kiddo with hemiparesis and going through this most recent growth spurt - typical around his age, of 8. In fact, since Brendon's appointment, this past summer, with his orthopedist, he has grown over a half of an inch and gained 8 pounds. Unfortunately, a detrimental growth spurt, in his case.
With all of that being said, Brendon is quite the defensive basketball player, complete with a game face that would intimidate even the strongest and most confident of basketball players. Also, he does a pretty darn good job of assisting other players in offense. Needless to say he has lacked in his offensive skills - dribbling with control and shooting - to the point of tossing the ball away to avoid failure.
As his mother I know exactly what he is capable of and he is more than capable, stroke or no stroke, of playing a game as a well-rounded player, the only issue is getting over the fear and taking those extra steps, above and beyond most, to build the skill necessary. Last weekend we worked on drills until he was giving me his best. We spent the week talking about the fact that, for most, practice and hard work comes into play before it all comes together. He doesn't have to work all that hard on defense, he's a natural! However, he needs to work extra hard on the offense.
Then I started discussing with Brendon the names of our friends' kids who are passionate about their favorite sport and are quite skilled due to constant, ongoing practice. I recalled the Harlem Globetrotters clinic Brendon attended last summer with Scooter Christenson and Handles Franklin. There was no mention, by these men, of it all coming naturally; there was a long, passionate testimony of how the love for the game and countless hours of practice brought them to be the best in the world, even with naysayers along the way. Then I spoke of the Great Ozzie Smith (having the love of the St. Louis Cardinals in my blood). Now Brendon is waaaay to young to know who Ozzie is but he learned very quickly of a man, the best short-stop ever, in my personal opinion, to play in the MLB. Not many can argue about that title for the Hall of Famer. Then there was my personal story of my time as a recruit in the police academy. Every bump and bruise and aching muscle resulted in strength, confidence, and, to be quite frank, a know how to save my ass when the s@$% hits the fan. I didn't walk into that academy proficient in those skills necessary but I walked out going above and beyond so I could do my best, and for 7 years I did (then I had a baby and retired my commission).
Finally, it was game day and, to be a little dramatic, the moment of truth. My husband and I gave him a pep-talk the entire route to the game. The first period Brendon's team looked a little sluggish and the boys weren't connecting. Brendon even looked a little off on his defense. Second period his game picked up and he was on defense.
Then it happened...
Brendon got the rebound from the opposing teams' basket and dribbled the ball. I seriously think he was going to stop at half court, like all of the other times in the past. But, he didn't! He took it down the entire court to the basket and he took the shot. IT WENT IN!
BRENDON MADE HIS FIRST BASKET IN A GAME!
After his success that boy jumped up and started to run back down the court with the brightest smile on his face and his left hand clinched, as if capturing his success and holding on, never wanting to let go.
Then, once he overcame that offensive hurdle he no longer had fear; it was gone! He dribbled down that court the rest of the game, as if he had been doing it all along. He broke through that barrier!
At the end of the game he got his first ever, in the two years and three games of playing basketball, grey star for offense. I know he was longing for that and he got it!
Tonight he began to question himself, asking if he deserved to be proud and if I were sure I was proud. Then my these words flowed from my heart to his heart: "It doesn't matter if you are the best; what matters is that you gave it your best."
He did give it his best and went beyond what I had only dreamed.
I am one proud Mama, here - I couldn't be more proud!
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