Number 42

I just found out I have a blog. Holy crap this is great. I should write blogs and shit. Why not? Ok, here’s one…

Today the boy had a basketball game. Second graders getting all athletic is pretty fun to watch. Blake loves basketball. He would wear his ku jersey everyday if I’d let him. His birthday party was at the community center so that we could all play basketball. It’s his thing.

So, when he had a moment during today’s game when he got hurt doing his thing I lost my breath for a minute. He and a kid from the other team went after a loose ball at the same time and blake went down hard. 

Gasp.

Flash backwards to his first grade basketball season. He was cruising along, loving the crap out of basketball, getting really good at the finer points of the game, like yelling, “PASS!!!!!”…but then a loose ball collision with the league’s biggest/best player (you may have heard of him, he’s known around these parts as “number 42”) knocked Blake and his confidence to the ground.

Big tears and the fear of getting knocked down again left Blake on the bench. I went over and talked to him to try to encourage him to get back out there. He did, but he wasn’t the same kid. He never was one to turn down a shot, but all the sudden he was running away from the ball. Instead of getting mad when his teammates didn’t pass, I heard him get upset with his friend Brad saying, “I told you not to pass it to me.”

What?

So, I tried more motivational speaking with him at half-time. I’m no Tony Robbins. But, I was crushed to watch the thing the boy loves more than anything turn into something he was scared of, so I tried all of my go to Matt Foley lines. Something got through to him about facing his fears or forgetting what happened or try, trying again. And right at the end of the game he nailed a mid-range jumper.

God, it was so sweet to watch. I told him how proud I was of him and I could tell he was super proud of himself. He’s brought up number 42 a few times since and it’s been a great lesson to face our fears…to get up when we get knocked down.

Flash forward to today’s game. All the memories of the number 42 lessons and Blake getting knocked down hard resurfaced as I helplessly watched Blake and his tears head for the bench after he bit the hardwood. How was he going to respond? Did I need to run over there and sit with him?

I chose to just watch this time. he cried a little, but shook that shit off like a champ. I was amazed at how fast he composed himself. No pep talk needed. Kid just went right back in the game like nothing happened. And before the half he had two more swishes to add to his point total and positive memory bank.

I pulled him aside at halftime and brought up number 42 and told him how proud I was of him for getting right back in there after he got knocked down. He beamed.

And after the game he was still talking about it. He said, “I never would have done that last year.” Pride in oneself. I still struggle with that one. Yup…big tears right now just thinking about it. maybe I didn’t get that when I was 8, but I love it that the boy sees his own progress and knows he’s awesome. To go from not wanting to go in the game and refusing to let his teammates pass to him last year to getting right back in the game and scoring twice this year...huge progress.

So, now it’s time to learn a lesson from my son, right? Get back in the game, asshole (I’m talking to me, not you, but I meant to tell you that you are kind of an asshole). 4 months without a blog post. I had a rough oct/nov so I just gave up for a while. I was writing my book. I was feeling so much pride. And then some life hiccups, put me on the bench. Fuck that man.

We all have number 42s. we all have shit that knocks us off our course. And oh my god, you know what helps take me down further? Whiskey. There’s a reason they don’t serve that shit to NBA players or 2nd grade ballers on the bench. It doesn’t help. So, I took a little mini break from alcohol this week and it’s weird…my brain works better…I actually want to write…I worked my restaurant job a little more…I got more done.

Pouring whiskey on my issues isn’t going to help. Queue bukowski..

Bukowski's "Bluebird"

It’s the past and the present emotions that the past creates that have their way with me at times. But, letting my past stand over me and keep me down like number 42 did to blake can’t happen. No man. It’s time to get up. It’s time to write/let the Bukowski bluebird get a little taste of fresh air. It’s time to have some pride/find some pride in my myself. God damn it feels good to be back.