Saturday, February 22nd, the Girls Basketball team's unbelievable season ended with a 52-54, well, we'll reluctantly use the word loss, loss to McNick. The GPS ankle bracelet the state has asked me to wear prevented me from making it to the game (And that's really about the only acceptable reason for not being there, right). It was pretty obvious from Arch Cunningham's pictures that there was some definite drama at the end of the game. When I asked someone to fill me in with the details, I was pointed to Coach Gentene's blog as the best way to summarize the game. I've included her text below.
We say it all the time that. We tell our athletes and remind ourselves--and even those naysayers--that sports teach us about life. We preach it, even. You know, lessons about integrity and teamwork, reaping what you sow, and knowing what it takes to be successful (which often, we say, has to do with overcoming adversity and the fear of failure). But this past weekend I was reminded of just how real it is, that sports really do teach us about life. And those lessons aren't always fun, they are rarely easy, and sometimes it isn't about "learning" the lesson but learning from the lesson. The lesson might simply be enduring what is painful and hard, with no tangible reward.
For the last two years I have been the head JV coach and a second assistant to the varsity coach of a Division II girls' basketball team. On Saturday we competed in the sectional finals and ultimately lost. It was, by far, the most disappointing sporting experience I have witnessed, let alone been a part of.
After being down 10 points at the half, our girls battled back to tie things up. The score is tied 52-52 with time running out. We have the ball in the hands of our leading scorer at the top of the key with 9 seconds left. I know this because I suspected we might call a timeout and I was watching for her to get the ball and what time the clock was showing. She makes a hard move to the basket and misses the shot. Our post gets the offensive rebound and goes back up. Misses. And this is when things get interesting.
Our opponent gets the defensive rebound with about 4.5 seconds left in the game and makes a quick outlet pass. The clock keeper, thinking a timeout is called, stops the clock at 3.3 seconds. As this is happening, an opposing player heaves what should have been a last second shot or pass (who knows). Meanwhile, back at the scorer's table, the clock-keeper realizes the game is still going and starts the clock back up. The heaved pass is received by our opponent on their end of the floor and they are able to sink a lay-up at the buzzer.
We of course protest this basket because we know the clock was stopped. The refs come to the scorer's table. The gentleman who was running the clocks tells them he had stopped the clock during play, and he mentions he thinks it was stopped for 2 or 3 seconds. The three refs huddle and then tell our coach that they cannot confirm how long the clock was stopped because they did not see it. (Even though the clock keeper is telling them he knows he made the mistake.) We try to explain that, mathematically, we don't need to know how long the clock was stopped because the basket was good at the buzzer, meaning it would have been out of regulation time. The refs huddle again. Then, in an outcome that I never expected to occur, one ref walks to the scorer's table, announces the basket is good and the game over. Our season has ended and our opponent, winners of the sectional finals, moves on to districts.
(I went back today to watch the tape. Remember when I looked at the clock with 9 seconds left? I watched from that point to the when the ball goes through the net at the other end of the floor. And, unfortunately, I only confirmed what I knew. In what should have been 9 seconds in the ballgame, 12.5 seconds elapse on the game film. The basket would not have been good in regulation if the clock had never stopped.)
I could tell you about the class and poise and integrity our team and head coach displayed in the wake of the frustrating defeat (because it is true), but I would rather dwell on how I feel today. Because, I believe, this is one of the toughest pills to swallow. The sting of this particular defeat is like none I have known in sports.
My immediate reaction was, "We have to be able to protest this, right? We know this is wrong. This is unfair. There's no way this wrong, unfair decision which affects us so deeply won't be rectified. It must be made right." But unfortunately in high school girls' basketball there is no instant replay, there's no petitioning to get it changed. The decision was made. (After all, a decision had to be made. And the refs did what they thought they had to do.) The result of this game is out of my control. I can do nothing to change it.
Then, I was angry. "If the clock-keeper hadn't screwed up we wouldn't be in this position!" But we are playing a game with people, not robots. And he made a mistake. Kind of like when we made mistakes with defensive breakdowns or turnovers or fouls. I would never point to one of our players and say "Your mistake cost us the game." I might be frustrated, but I can't blame them. And so I realized I can't stay angry with the clock-keeper.
Next, I became critical. I thought of all of the things we coulda, shoulda done. I became nitpicky. I played the game tape and looked for plays early in the first quarter. What could have happened if we rotated the weakside guard sooner? What would happen if we made a bounce pass there instead of a lob? How could we have out-strategized the opponent?
And finally, though still sad and frustrated, my heart has swollen with affection for the people involved in our program. I am filled with pride. I tweeted after the game was over that I was most proud of these young women for who they are, and then proud of how they play. And it is true. I am honored to be a part of such an amazing coaching staff, who puts the team in a position to be successful with integrity, grace, and enthusiasm. I am reminded of how hard I have laughed this season. And I'm reminded of how tired I am, but how there is no where I would rather be after school than at basketball. I am filled with love for the team, for the individuals, and for the game of basketball.
And so--while this loss still hurts, and the bitter taste will likely linger on my tongue for a while, with possible phantom recurrences even years from now--I am reminded just how like life this basketball game is.
I tell my students and athletes that life gets harder and it gets better. I tell them that life will kick them in the teeth and suffering will find them. And sometimes bad things happen to us without any kind of explanation. Any person who has ever lived and cared about anything knows this. Life hands us disappointments all the time.
I want the team to know that it is okay to be upset and frustrated with the outcome of that game. I want them to know that it was not fair, that they didn't lose fairly. (Neutral officials in the gym, athletic directors of other schools, school officials from the two competing schools--all saw the clock stop and know the came should have never been called as it was.) Someone else decided they lost. Someone else, who had the power, made the wrong decision. There is no doubt in anyone's mind that this was the wrong decision. And it hurt us--both in our opportunity to play basketball and emotionally.
Toughness isn't the absence of feelings. Toughness is coping with those feelings. And this is the lesson I want kids to know about life. It is hard sometimes. And sometimes it is wonderful. Being tough doesn't mean you aren't disappointed when life kicks you in the teeth. Toughness isn't feigning happiness in the midst of suffering. Toughness requires the courage to face the feelings, knowing what can and cannot be controlled, and being able to pick yourself up and carry on.
Thanks to Coach Gentene for the text. Check out her blog
HERE, and
Thanks to Arch Cunningham for the pictures.
-M.jpg)
-M.jpg)
-M.jpg)
Posts
