My son only plays basketball because I make him. That's what he tells everyone, and it's actually the truth. In their elementary school, the 4th-6th graders play basketball during this time of the year. If the kids choose not to participate on the basketball team, they end up sitting through all of gym class. Well, I figure he does enough sitting during the rest of his day; he needs to be up and active during gym class. So, yes, I make him play basketball.
The hardest part of playing basketball, for him, is that the rest of the boys in his class are incredibly talented. It's like they were born with athletics in their genes. They live and breathe sports. So my son doesn't get to play in the games for very long (although his coach is awesome and lets every boy have some minutes of playing time in every game).
Last night, though, my son got plenty of playing time. The team was ahead by a ridiculous number of points. (I think the final score ended up being something like 45-8.) And somehow, something in my son's brain finally clicked. He actually took 3 shots -- something he's NEVER done in a game before.
And he actually MADE a BASKET! In fact, it was the final basket of the game, though it wasn't a "buzzer-beater" or anything fantastic like that.
I was probably the most excited person in the stands at that point. I'm so proud of him. He's stuck with it, and improved as a player, even though he really doesn't like playing basketball. And that makes me proud of him as a person.
A great basketball book: Summer Ball by Mike Lupica
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