Monday, October 26, 2009

At the Buzzer

In the words of Yogi Berra, "It was deja vu all over again," with a few key differences. Sixth grade girl was now eighth grade girl: she was taller, stronger, and fitter. She had mostly kept out of trouble for the first six weeks of school, and this time, we needed a point guard.

The taint on our team of the mean girl who had bullied her two years before had faded considerably and was almost gone. There was only one other girl left who had ever played with her. The eighth graders the year before had had a few spiteful moments, but their unkindness had been nothing compared to hers. Even so, the younger girls who were back now for a second season had come to me after tryouts to say that they really hoped that this year would be more positive. "No offense," one said, "but some of the eighth graders last year were scary." How impressed was I when they decided on their own to be supportive of the new players? What a change.

Our prospective point guard couldn't make the seventh and eighth grade trials, so we let her try out when she showed up with the sixth graders the next day. Once again, her skills were solid, and her game was good. When it came time to scrimmage with the other girls, though, it was as if no time had passed. She didn't listen to directions; she was shoving other girls on the sidelines; in the game she didn't pass; and she called her teammates out for their lack of talent.

At the end of the tryout, when everyone gathered at center court to wrap it up, she brought a ball and stood with her back to the group, dribbling it. "Hold the ball," the other coach said, and she lifted it to her shoulder as if to shoot. "Do not shoot that ball," he said, and turned to the other girls. As he did, she shrugged and stepped hard into that half-court shot. I watched as the basketball hit the rim, bounced straight up and fell back through the net. It was an amazing shot, and she could not contain her glee, but it was game over.

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