The Daily Times

Dear Ezra,

Somehow I doubt you’ll remember the details, but it’ll be hard to forget the nail-biter that took one of your basketball game down to the wire this season.

I don’t even know the name of the kid on your team who made the winning shot, but it was worthy of a highlight reel — with your team down one point, he managed to steal the ball, drive to the goal and make the shot with 10 seconds left. At the high school or college level, 10 seconds is plenty of time for the tide of the game to change yet again, but in the 6- and 7-year-old division of the Blount County Parks and Rec league, it was over.

The stands were filled with roaring parents, all of whom leapt to their feet when your teammate got the ball. Even though you were on the bench, I was as caught up as the next mom or dad, fists clenched, grinding my teeth, praying you guys would pull it off. When you did, we erupted. A few of you seemed ecstatic, but for the most part, you guys were about as nonchalant as if you’d won a game of Candyland.

“We won!” you exclaimed. “Let’s go.”

Your inaugural season of youth basketball has been, shall we say, a learning experience. You came into it with an undeniable love of shooting the ball and making a basket; as we prepare to close out the season, you’ve learned quite a bit, and demonstrated that you have quite a ways to go.

To be fair, many of your teammates are in the same boat. Athletic ability manifests itself at different ages, and watching you and your fellow players on the court is, at times, like watching a pack of monkeys fighting over a crate of bananas. I say that with all the love and kindness my heart can possibly hold, because when I see you running pell-mell up and down the court, posting up on the top of the key in the exact same spot every time (just as the coach instructed) ... grinning life a goof in huddled conversation with a teammate while your opponent drives past you both toward the goal ... overwhelmed by a spurt of aggression, grabbing another player by the waist in order to get the ball from him ... I can only grin like a fool and think, “He’s having fun.”

That’s what it’s all about at this age, or at least it should be. Some parents seem to lose sight of that, screaming at the referees and shouting at their kids with such intensity I can’t help but look around the Everett gym to see if there might be college scouts watching the game. Of course I want you to excel, to develop such a love for the game that you sleep with a basketball cradled in your hands and become the next Larry Bird, but I try to be realistic.

You are, after all, your father’s son. Athletic ability doesn’t come naturally to the Wildsmiths, and that’s OK, because we make up for it in other ways. Fortunately, you’re too young to realize that, and you give it everything you have when you’re out there on the court. You’re still catching on to the nuances of the game, but even when you make mistakes, I take comfort in the fact that you’re having a blast.

I know for sure that Coach Chad and Coach Brian are. I watch them, and while they’re focused on directing you guys when the clock is running, they also laugh and smile and enjoy the unintentional comedy as much as the rest of us. During practice, they keep you boys organized, but they aren’t drill sergeants; they teach, but they don’t browbeat. And for your first season, that’s perfect.

You’ll have plenty of time to discover what it means to win and lose. Before you know it, every aspect of your life will be a competition, from the video games you play with friends to the tests you take in class to the jobs you apply for as an adult. You’ll experience the elation of victory and feel crushed by defeat. You’ll find yourself driven to do better, to be better, to pursue that win — at whatever you compete in — at all costs.

Life will become so much more than just a game, and the fun of playing — the thrill of getting together with a group of friends to do something you love because it makes you happy — will fade. Winning will mean more than joy; losing will become something you equate with shame and humiliation.

I dread that day, because it’ll take years for you to get to where you appreciate sports and other competitions for what they are — games. The stakes may be high, but they’re just games, and no amount of pressure to succeed, to be the best, should overshadow the fact that whatever you compete in should be fun.

It should enhance your life, not define it. The game should make you happy, not define your emotional condition. I don’t ever want to lose sight of that myself, even though games like the aforementioned nail biter can sweep me along like an unstoppable tide of anticipation and hope and fear. I don’t want to find myself screaming at you to do this or that, to become something that says more about me than it does about you.

I want you to love the game, to play for the love of it and to have the freedom to walk away from it when it stops being fun. It’s your life, son, and as much as I live it with you and through you, I hope we both never lose sight of that.

Love,

Dad

Steve Wildsmith is the Weekend editor for The Daily Times. Contact him at (stevew@thedailytimes.com) or at 981-1144.

You must be logged in to Facebook to comment. If you're not logged in to Facebook, a login window will open when you click "comment". Or you can log in now. You may need to refresh your page after logging in via that link.