Like many kids, ours go through phases when it comes to toys. One second, they're playing with something; .0001 seconds later, they are playing with something else and don't go back to the first toy for approximately three years, if ever.
That leaves our son, the most finicky of them all when it comes to toys. He plays hard and then moves on, only reusing toys if someone is with him. (If you don't believe me, ask the pile of Super Mario Bros. Legos in the corner of our play area.) His all-or-nothing approach also carried over to reading. He tore through all of the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" books and then announced he would not read anything else until the new book in the series came out... in six months. It took weeks of cajoling - and several rejected book series - before he started reading the "Big Nate" series, which he also just finished.
All of which is to say Belle and I were a little apprehensive at first to replace the basketball hoop on our driveway as a Hanukkah present for him. The hoop was rusting and would need to be taken down soon anyways, but we both feared spending thousands of dollars on a nice hoop that would just become part of our landscaping. Still, I couldn't deny the voice in my head, like in "Field of Dreams": If you build it, he will play.
One reason why I was confident was he started playing rec-league basketball. He's on a team of about a dozen boys, ages 5 and 6, with varying degrees of basketball proficiency. The team meets every Saturday for 90 minutes, the first half a team practice, the second a scrimmage against another team. When the coach asked for volunteers to help him, I offered my assistance, although warning him my playing career ended in high school on a rec-league team with friends. (My scouting report was high motor, limited range, tenacious defense - in other words, a Short White Guy.)
And so I've become "Coach Danny," assisting with drills and trying to dodge stray basketballs. We work on dribbling, shooting and passing, explain the importance of getting back on defense and finding the open man. And then we watch everything we teach get thrown out the window once the scrimmage begins. If I had a nickel for every time I've yelled "PASS THE BALL!", I could have paid for a dome over the hoop at our house.
The league's rules call for man-to-man defense (no double-teaming) after half court and stealing only when someone passes the ball. This, in theory, would allow everyone to practice dribbling and passing and prevent large pileups on the court. In reality, each possession typically involves one boy taking a few dribbles before being surrounded by members of the opposing the team. He then picks up the ball and tries to run away from the defense, maybe taking another dribble or two.
The longer the boy holds the ball, the closer his teammates move toward him, hands in the air, asking for the ball. The ball-handler then runs to another spot before throwing the ball somewhere near the basket. Whether the ball bounces after hitting the rim or rolls on the ground, multiple boys will fall on top of each other trying to grab it. On the occasions a boy makes a basket, the cheers from parents and family seem a mix of happiness, surprise and relief for one fewer collision trying to corral a loose ball.
I consider a scrimmage a success if only one boy left the court in tears because of a minor injury and no one is bleeding. The boys are tired when it's over and my throat is raw from yelling instructions and encouragement. But everyone has had a great time, including, much to my delight, my son. He began basketball season unsure of his dribbling and barely grazing the net of the 8-foot rims. Now, he dribbles confidently, understands the basics of the game and looks for his shot.
And while he doesn't get too many shots during the game, he regularly practices on our basketball hoop. I rebound for him for hours in my winter jacket and deliberately miss shots so he can win our games of "HORSE." Best of all, he'll sometimes go outside on his own to play.
He won't be in the NBA when he grows up, but seeing his interest in basketball grow exponentially in just a few months has been great to watch. Our bet on a basketball hoop has already paid off, and we look forward to its continued, regular use.
At least until the next "Wimpy Kid" book comes out.
