Basket Blame

      I hadn't laughed that hard all season long.  And with the comical cast of characters on this year's basketball team, that's certainly saying a lot.  We may not have the smartest or most talented group of players ever comprised on a high school team, but we probably could compete as one of the funniest.

     There's Zack, whose impersonations are limited to just two, but are spot on.  If you closed your eyes, you'd think Chewbaca was bellowing at you.  Or that you were being ordered to get into the chopper by Arnold Schwarzenegger.
     Kevin's usually good for a few laughs a day, from flexing his non-existent muscles to shouting out "Shooter!" before launching his own jumpshot, which usually results in one of two things: either hitting nothing but air or almost breaking the backboard.
     And then we have Josh, who persistently tries everyday to dunk the ball, but looks more like a 5-year boy reaching to catch a seagull flying by on the beach.  He'll never come close to getting it, but that doesn't stop him from trying.  Which leaves all onlookers laughing out loud.

    

     But on this Saturday morning, it was more than just a joke or a momentary LOL scene.  It was classic comedy.  A Three Stooges mishap wrapped up in a Larry David script.

     "You're not going to believe this" Coach Mike says to me before the start of practice.  And between my bouts of boisterous laughter and facial expressions of disbelief, Mike tells me about the morning he's already had.

The Shooter

     He was shoveling the few inches of snow that had fallen the night before.  His wife, Holly, hops in her car at the top of the driveway to go pick up a few things at the grocery store.  She puts it in reverse and begins her exit as Mike waves goodbye and continues shoveling.  A few seconds later, a loud crash of metal and crunching plastic breaks the early morning quiet.  For whatever reason, Holly hadn't seen Mike's minivan parked at the end of the driveway, which he had moved there to shovel the top more easily.  Crrrunchhh! She backed right into it.
   

     Maybe Holly simply failed to notice the car's change in location.  Maybe she was preoccupied with other things and wasn't paying full attention.  Or maybe she simply backed up like she's done a thousand times before without needing to use her rearview mirror until just before reaching the street. Whatever the reason, the front end of Mike's minivan compacted like an accordion squeezing out a D-flat. 

     Mike happens to look up at the very moment the impact occurs.  In disbelief he watches, confused by his eyes telling his brain that his wife, somehow, someway, failed to see his van in her path.  He's rendered speechless.  Unable to enunciate any words beyond those that would be bleeped-out on network television, Mike instead chooses reaction response #2.  He bites his lip, turns, and hurls his snow shovel high into the air like an Olympian discus thrower, sending it a good gold medal's distance.

The Seagull Chaser

     Holly gets out of her car to check the damage.  Without saying a word, Mike retrieves his shovel and continues his shoveling.  Head down.  Scoop, throw.  Scoop, throw.  A bit uncertain at first, Holly reads her husband's angry silence accurately, and decides it best to leave on her errand without saying a word.

     I'm now laughing hysterically at Mike's story.  Knowing him as I do, I can picture him just seething and trying so hard not to lose it.  Like an angry cartoon character turning bright red with steam shooting out of his ears.

     "Wait, there's more" he tells me.  He shakes his head and continues.

     "And I just knew it.  I knew it.  I knew when she came home, somehow, someway, she was gonna' blame me for this."

     An hour or so later, Holly comes home.  Mike is preparing to leave for practice, but not before being confronted by Holly, who is in full defense attorney mode: 

     "So...why didn't you tell me that you moved the car to the end of the driveway?"
     Even though his prediction came true, Mike still couldn't believe his ears.  His blood goes from percolating to boiling over.  

     "I'm going to practice" he barks back at her, and flies out the door, knowing that staying another minute would've resulted in a no-win argument.

     "I just had to get out of there as quick as I could" he tells me, as I again burst into laughter.  "I would've blown a gasket if I stayed to listen to her try to blame me for her hitting my car!"

     Now, it's a given that Holly is a truly wonderful person.  She's a terrific mother and without question, the much better looking, much smarter, better half of their marriage.  Mike definitely married up.  But in this case, Mike and I are in total agreement about her unreasonableness.  The observational  synapses of Holly's brain, unlike her car going in reverse down the driveway, weren't firing on all cylinders.  Even so, an accident is an accident.  Everybody makes mistakes. Not really a huge deal.  But her attempt at displacing blame instead of owning up to her mistake, well that's just kooky-talk as far as Mike and I are concerned.

Grip-challenged

     But if Holly ever needed help in pleading her case, she could turn to my sister, Christine.  Over dinner the next day I tell her the story.  She found Holly's position not only understandable, but perfectly valid.

     "Mike could have and should have alerted her about moving the car in the first place" she says.  "He should have known what could've happened.  He's at least partly to blame."

     I'm now as shocked as I know Mike was when Holly confronted him.  Christine postulates further:

     "Plus it's human nature to place blame.  It goes back to the Garden of Eden.  Look at Adam and Eve.  Adam blamed Eve for giving him the forbidden fruit to eat.  When God calls Eve out on it, she blames the serpent.  The blame-game has been going on since the beginning of man."

     Wow.  Talk about kooky-talk with a capital "K".  Regardless of the excuses Adam and Eve gave, God wasn't having it.  Nor do I.  Now if Adam was indeed tempted by Eve's Pink Cadillac instead of an apple, as we Springsteen fans believe, then maybe he'd have a legitimate excuse.

Searching for his mojo

     Now after my laughing bout I tell Mike that there might be a good lesson here for the players.  Way too often a player of ours will blame someone or something else for a mistake he himself has made.  A pass that's intercepted?  Tim will blame his teammate for not coming to the ball.  Nick will miss a box-out and give up an offensive put-back.  But he'll claim he was fouled and blame the referee.  Missing four free throws one game, Lance blamed the ball itself, claiming the grip of the ball was substandard.  Hell, the same things happens off the court as well.  Both Nick and Nate blame Liam for stealing their girlfriends, when in reality it's their own lack of mojo that sends their fillies running away.

     "Let's see if these guys can gain any insight into their own mentality" I say.

     So we gather the team together and Mike retells in detail his morning story:  The driveway setup, the car locations, the crash, the shovel toss.  The kids crack up in disbelief over Coach's wife being vehicularly challenged.  

     "Oh man!" is echoed amongst the players.

     "Whaaatt??!"

     "No waaayy!"

     "Wait, that's not all" Mike tells them.  He continues:

     "So she comes home an hour later.  Walks into the house and says to me:  'So why didn't you tell me you moved the car to the end of the driveway?' "

     Added to the repeated "What?"'s and "No way!"'s is Lance's "That's crazy!" and Nate's "That is so messed up".

     Now here's where teachers like Coach Mike and I enjoy coaching the most.  When we can use the sport of basketball to not only teach the game, but impart upon our young minds lessons that extend beyond the basketball court.  Lessons about responsibility, character, integrity, honesty.  Lessons that help mold young adults into thoughtful and responsible men to be admired.  Life lessons that they'll remember far longer than the length of their playing careers.

Lifelong Bachelor

     Here, Mike's better half (I repeat: in every which way) will be used as an example of behavior of what not to do.  Now that the kids have seen the absurdity of Holly's attempt at the blame-game, we'll compare this to the players themselves.  We'll point out the "Holly-ism" in their own game. The kids will then realize that they play the same blame-game when they should be owning up to their own faults and mistakes, and then try to correct them.

     We'll point out the number of times it's always someone else's fault: How it's not your fault for making a bad pass, but his for not catching it.  How it's not your fault for playing poor helpside defense but your teammate's for getting beat off the dribble.  How it's not your fault for a poor box-out but the ref's for not calling an over-the-back foul.

     So after Mike's story is finished and the laughter subsides, it's now time to make our point.  So I ask the $64,000 question:

     "Now there's a lesson to be learned in all of this" I say.  "So, do you know what it is?"

     To which Tim responds without hesitation: "Yeh, don't ever get married."

     The team laughs hysterically.  Coach Mike laughs more than he should be allowed.  I drop and shake my head in dismay.  I lift it, and then step toward Tim.  I give him an affirming hi-five.

     And I had thought this wasn't a very smart team.