I had coached basketball for ten years, two on the college level. I kinda sorta know how I got into basketball, and it is an odd story for a guy who stands only five foot eight (and my wife swears I’m shrinking), can’t jump, can’t dribble at all with my left hand, and can’t shoot. I guess other than that, I’m pretty good. Not!
When I was in eighth grade, Father Jim pulled me aside and asked me to coach the sixth graders. Hmmm . . . Okay, I guess I can do that. He’d give me the practice routine and I’d run them through a practice and he’d sit on the sideline with me when they had a game. That was my first taste of it.
I went to high school and played my first two years. I was known for my defense, which was probably okay, since that was all- and I do mean ‘all’- I could do. When I was a junior, the head coach called me into his office at the end of tryouts and told me that football season had ended. I remember looking at him rather quizzically, and he said something to the effect that, “I play basketball like I played football.” I actually thought that was a complement, because I was pretty good. I could take a hit and I could deliver them. Started both ways at fullback and linebacker. So, I thought I had made the basketball team. Ah, no. He cut me. Right then and there. But, he asked if I was interested in coaching the eighth grade team. Hmmm . . . Okay, I guess I can do that. Only this time, I wasn’t furnished with a practice routine. I had to make up my own. And no one sat on the bench with me. I was alone. By myself. Just me. Yup, just me.
Got to college and actually thought I’d coach football, my first love (way, way before I met Kim- really).
Nope. My first job was a teacher and head boys basketball coach at the second smallest school in the state. Did that for three years, had quite a bit of success, and was recruited to coach at the college level. Did that for two years, hated it, and went to back to high school for another five.
Somewhere along the way, I heard someone a whole lot smarter than me say that basketball was A Game Of Mistakes: the team that makes the least amount of mistakes wins.
Sort of describes life, doesn’t it?
Life is A Game Of Mistakes. Each day, every day. A Game Of Mistakes.
We hope that the mistakes we make aren’t too big or too serious. We hope that the mistakes we make aren’t hurtful to others. Hopefully. But we do make mistakes. Constantly.
Some mistakes are easily overcome. Some mistakes are soon forgotten. Others, well, not so much.
There are some mistakes that haunt us, sometimes dominate us, sometimes control us in the way we think, the way we act, and in the way we react.
The good thing, the very great thing, is that each morning brings a new day . . . a new start . . . a do over. Each morning we get to rectify what took place the day before (I had written a previous post, Mornings, that speaks to the beauty of do overs).
And if we have the courage to remember that we are human, that yes, mistakes happen and that mistakes can be forgiven if learned from, Life Madness goes on . . . and on. Yes, Life Madness is A Game Of Mistakes. Because in life, mistakes happen. To the best of us, to the brightest among us, to all of us. If we remember that, Life Madness, much like March Madness, can be fun and enjoyable. After all, life should be enjoyable. It really should. Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!