Cybercolumn by Brett Younger: My season on the brink_20705

Posted: 2/02/05

CYBERCOLUMN: My season on the brink

By Brett Younger

“We don’t have a coach for your son Caleb’s team. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I guess children better get used to being rejected, but this isn’t that hard. The coach only has to be at one practice and one game a week. You’d think someone would think these kids are worth two hours. It makes me want to cry.”

The 19th century Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard suggested that there are moments that call for a “leap of faith,” but this may have been more of a “look before you make a leap of studipity” moment.

I had never started a phone conversation with “My name is Brett Younger, and I’m your basketball coach.” The 2020 NBA All-Star team sounded no more confident than I did.

“Have you played much basketball?”

Brett Younger

“No, but my mom says I have to play something.”

I borrowed a copy of Youth Basketball: The Guide for Coaches and Parents. The author makes Bobby Knight seem laid back. The book covers in detail: shooting (I’ve suggested our players aim in the general direction of the basket); dribbling (try to avoid hitting your own feet); passing (I hope to cut down on how often we scream “throw it to me”); defense (we try to get in front of players screaming “throw it to me”); and conditioning (I hand out candy).

I planned our first practice in detail. I would share our terminology, go over defensive and offensive philosophies, lay the groundwork for intricate plays and instill an understanding of man-to-man and zone defenses.

The practice I planned didn’t happen. It was less like a John Wooden practice and more like the inside of a popcorn popper. Quantum physics says it is possible for matter to be in two places at once. After coaching 11-year-olds, this is no longer hard for me to believe.

I said, “The off guard sets a screen on the point guard’s man as the three cuts across the line.” When I blew the whistle everyone ran in random directions.

I patiently explained, “In a zone defense, each player is responsible for an area of the floor.” When I blew the whistle, everyone chased the ball.

We ended up playing “outshoot the coaches” (Assistant Coach Graham Younger kept this from being embarrassing). We had a few layup races and a rousing round of “king of the hill.” As we finished our first practice, I wasn’t sure they had the nuances of the pick and roll, but I liked my players (and still like calling them “my players”).

The parents had other concerns: “My son’s uniform is too small.” (They’re all the same size.) “Where is Johnny’s basketball?” “My mother’s car won’t start. She told me to come and get you.”

Just before tip-off of our first game, I made a slight change in the defense. Instead of a 2-1-2 match-up zone, we would have three players chase the ball. On offense we would stick with our plan of ignoring the plays.

In French Louisiana, the Creole word “lagniappe” refers to an extra, unexpected gift of grace. In a moment of pure, unlikely-to-be-repeated lagniappe, we won our first game. The coach’s son hit seven of nine shots and made the coach look smarter than he is.

I know I’m making too much of this sacred hoops experience, but it reminded me that the hardness of the world threatens to keep us from seeing the extra, unexpected gifts of grace. Annie Dillard said, “The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand.” Some of those pennies land on basketball courts.

Brett Younger is pastor of Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth and the author of “Who Moved My Pulpit? A Hilarious Look at Ministerial Life,” available from Smyth & Helwys (800) 747-3016.