A Mother's Day Wish

     

     Mom knows as well as anybody, what are without a doubt my two biggest passions. One, of course, is basketball.  Ever since I was six years old, not a day has gone by where I wasn't either playing basketball, watching basketball, coaching basketball, or thinking basketball.  As a kid, I'd willingly shovel the driveway during the winter, not for Dad, not our driveway, but the driveway next door, because they had a basketball hoop where I could shoot when I was finished.  Though my childhood NBA dreams faded quickly, I still played through high school, and later became a Park & Rec, and then a high school coach.

     Through it all, Mom was there every step of the way.  Driving me to practice and to games for twelve years.  Cheering for me when I led my 3rd grade T-Bird team averaging 4 points per game, up to when I was lucky getting 4 minutes of playing time per game on the high school varsity.  Dad was there supporting me as well, but in a different way:  In an analytical, constructive way--in a way where I use that perspective as a coach today.  But Mom, she was my stability, the one I could always count on as my number one fan, whether it was with a ride when I needed one or by collecting write-ups from the sports page when my name was in it. Or by not making an issue over my late night drunkenness the night I quit the varsity team my senior year, when under any other circumstance I would have been severely punished and grounded "indefinitely".  At 46 now, nothing has changed.  She's still my #1 fan, even if she doesn't like me as much now that I'm a loud and temperamental coach, and not that quiet and shy six year playing Biddy Basketball.