“Would you be interested in coaching girls basketball this year?” the text read. My husband, Justin, had received this text message from a friend of ours who was coordinating the Catholic School Basketball league that our daughter was playing in this Fall. The group email requesting coaches hadn’t received enough takers, and he was hoping Justin could help out.
Justin’s usually up for volunteering, so I wasn’t expecting what came next. “I know he asked me, but I think you should do it,” he said. “I love basketball, but I’ve never played anything other than pick-up ball, and I’m terrible. You played all the way through high school.”
I recoiled at first – “No, I just can’t,” not even giving this idea a thought, and cringing and dismissing it at the same time.
I tried going back to what I was doing, but the idea nagged at me. Why not? Why was I so quick to shoot it down? I sat with the discomfort for a few minutes, and then asked Justin to wait to respond to the text and give me some time to think it over and talk it through. The two of us talked about what the commitment would look like. He offered support with our other children to free me up for the opportunity, and I really, really started to think about what a great bonding experience this would be for Grace and me. Then it hit me – this just might be my last opportunity to coach her in any sport. That was the realization I needed to give me clarity on where my heart stood.
Within about 10 minutes, I called our friend and told him that I would like to coach. He was elated, and told me that I would be able to coach with another fourth Grade girl mom, and he would send us all the details.
I was nervous. I was anxious. It had been a looooooong time since I had played basketball. Would I remember the plays, the drills, the ins and outs of the game. I gave myself a pep talk, telling myself that all of this could be refreshed, and that all I needed to do now was show up for Grace, and the other 8 lovely fourth graders on my team.
On the night of our first practice, we gathered in a circle and we laid it all out there. We had three goals for the season: 1) get better at basketball, 2) to support our teammates, and 3) and to have fun. I had watched several YouTube videos to refresh my memory on age-appropriate drills, had downloaded some tools on coaching 4th grade girls the best way to teach them the game, and had talked to a several friends with years of coaching experience. We had a great first practice, and on the way home Grace said from the back seat, “Mom, that was so fun. You are a really great coach.”
The tension I’d been holding on to for days seemed to release with and exhale and a smile. Just show up – that was all they needed from me tonight.
Our season is winding down, and this leap of faith that I took in coaching this team has been life-giving in so many ways. Hearing the girls call me “Coach Allison.” Seeing our smallest player make her first basket. My one player who comes up to thank me every single game and practice. Hearing the priceless fourth grade girl chatter during water breaks. Laughing with my Co-Coach and nourishing that new friendship. Listening to Grace critique each game and the sportsmanship of our opponent on every ride home. Realizing that, even though it’s been a loooooong time since I played basketball, I know enough, and I am enough for these girls.
And so, as the season comes to a close, I send up a silent prayer of gratitude that I chose to show up even though I felt ill-prepared and unqualified. I send up a prayer of gratitude that Justin saw in me what I didn’t even see in myself in that moment of doubt and dismissal. And I send up a prayer of gratitude for this time of connection with my daughter, and with the lovely, joyful, and fun girls that I was blessed to coach and spend this time with.
