Everyone should witness their child in a game like this at least once in their life.
It was the quarterfinals of the league playoffs. Our team, ranked #2 in the league, had its hands full with the number 5 ranked team. The other team was playing on emotion and you could feel the electricity in the air.
We were down by three points with 14 seconds left in the game. The other team knew we were going have to throw up a long three pointer just to tie the game. We had one long distance shooting threat on our team, my son Ed. I was coaching and drew up a play for Ed during our last timeout. The people in the stands were yelling so hard we couldn’t hear ourselves. I was proud: our team didn’t look defeated, although we were down. We looked…hungry.
We started back out on the court, and I called my son back. Away from everyone else’s ears, I leaned down and whispered to him “Whether you make the shot or not, hold your head high. You’re my son and I love you”. He grinned at me.
We lined up and executed the play to perfection. My son shook off two defenders, stepped behind a screen of two players, and fired from 30 feet out.
And missed.
He hit the back of the rim, and the ball caromed wildly right back to him! He looked down (to make sure he was beyond the three-point arc) and fired again with two seconds left.
Nothing but net. Three points. Tie game. Overtime.
We were spent, and the other team quickly ran off five quick points in overtime. Down by 5 with a minute left to play in overtime is usually a sure loss. But we battled back, and our most mercurial player David fired a jump shot that somehow went in with 50 seconds left in overtime. Down by 3. We stopped them on their next possession, and I called time out with 30 seconds left. Déjà vu all over again.
We again ran a play to Ed, but they were ready this time, with three defenders hanging off of him. He had no choice but to pass off to our big man, Jon, who was way out of position at the top of the key. I waited calmly for our season to end. Jon, who was not being guarded, cranked up his very first jumper from just beyond the three point line…
and it went in.
Tie game. Again. Pure bedlam. Ten seconds left.
The opposing coach was screaming at his team to call time out, and we got a gift.
The player attempting to inbound the ball was distracted by his coach and stepped on the inbound line. Big no-no. Referee whistled a turnover and we get the ball back!
I quickly set up a play, and caution the boys that we only need a single point to win the game. Let’s do it, men!
Jon and Ed are covered by two kids each, so we are forced to throw the ball to our worst dribbler, Devon. The other team sees this and they all descend upon him like a pack of hungry wolves. Devon somehow manages to squirt the ball out to my son behind him. Ed fires a jump shot with four seconds left and no less than three hands in his face. He misses badly, the ball clanks harmlessly off the bottom of the rim….
…into the hands of Mark, a kid who has not scored a basket for our team all year. He is all alone beneath the basket, no one had bothered to guard him as he had one of the worst shooting percentages in the entire league.
Mark twists his body, fires an off-balance left handed soft shot from underneath the basket. The ball totters on the rim.
The horn sounds.
The ball drops in.
Two points.
We win.
I can’t breathe.
