My Hoopster

One of my dreams for Cal became a reality today.  I've been having this dream since last summer when he first started showing an interest in playing basketball.  It didn't take much -- one dribble, I believe -- and I was all about wanting him to play basketball, through at least college.  We installed a basketball hoop in our driveway, and today was the first day he participated in an organized basketball skills camp.

I didn't even know this dream was brewing inside me until it happened.  I can explain my expecting him to play baseball -- his dad played through a couple years of post-college minor league ball and later instructed kids how to play, and I played many, many, many seasons of softball, through college. And that's not counting the years of playing co-ed softball when I lived in the City or the many, many, many times I sat in the bleachers of Wrigley field where, as a rare White Sox fan, I actually watched the games.  Nor does it count the many times I've travelled many miles to catch a baseball game in the ballpark of a different city.  So baseball is in Cal's blood.  The kid is going to play.

He's got some basketball genes, too, though.  I started playing in 7th grade, did pretty well at it in high school and then played a season in college, after which I concluded I couldn't keep up well enough with man-to-man defense to continue playing and switched to playing volleyball in its place -- having watched my D3 school's volleyball team play a season, I knew I could compete at that, and did.

I love the game.  I make no bones about believing that good basketball players are the best, most complete athletes -- they're strong, have crazy endurance, exhibit fantastic body control, show great touch and can simply be beautiful to watch.  If my kid can be one of those athletes, I'll be one proud, happy mama.  And that's the selfish side.  I know how happy I was and how much fun I had playing -- if my kid has similar experiences, well, yippee!

That this dream was brewing inside of me is really not surprising.  So about his first day of organized basketball...

It's a skills camp and not a league.  It seemed like a good idea to lay the groundwork and start developing some basic skills before throwing him into a league. I appreciate the value of fundamentals.  On day 1 of this skills camp I witnessed some stretching and running exercises, some of which work the aforementioned body control that good basketball players have.  That's what they started with, and Cal was actually one of the fastest kids.

Cal and what might be his signature tongue

The group of kids were then separated into three groups and cycled through three different stations -- 1) strictly dribbling, 2 moving around a defender and then shooting and 3) rebounding and laying it back up.  I enjoyed watching Cal at the dribbling station the most, I'd say for two reasons: he did really well! and he did it almost entirely with his tongue hanging out.  It was great.  That was one of Michael Jordan's (THE greatest basketball player EVER) signatures... that and all of the aforementioned features and skills that I think make basketball players the greatest athletes.  Cal was one of the better dribblers, though he didn't dribble enough because I caught him travelling many times. This was not surprising -- I caught him travelling many times when I'd play with him this past summer and called him out on it even then.  He'll learn.  He needs to work on his shot, too -- he didn't use the backboard and missed a lot; but frankly, I'm just glad he can get it to the hoop.  My assessment is that he's ahead of most kids his age, even in shooting.

Anyway, I loved it.  He'd peek over at me periodically after having attempted a move or a shot and just smile.  Whether he made it or not, he'd smile. When the session was over, he kept a ball and showed off a bit, dribbling it between his legs... or, I should say under his left leg which he'd lift off the ground to get the ball through.  It was hilarious and cute, all wrapped in a set of three dribbles and a lifted left leg.  He was so proud he could do this.

Yes, I loved watching him play.  And, better yet, I think he loved it, too.