My boss's son is a sixth grader in the Sycamore school district. Recently, he and 105 of his peers signed up to play basketball. My boss received an email saying they were one coach short and some of the kids would have to be cut. She bravely volunteered so that all the kids that wanted to play could. Just one problem. She doesn't know a single thing about basketball and she'd soon be a head coach.
Basketball has always been my number one. It was the sport I played the most, liked the most and knew the most about... which isn't saying much... so I decided to help. Why not, right?
Well, I can't make promises about how this season's going to turn out. We have one scheduled practice a week. One! I need one practice just for the wind sprints these little punks should be running. Maybe I was just as big a punk as some of these guys, but I don't remember anyone on my team walking through a layup drill. I do not take kindly to such things especially when it would be far easier for me to enjoy a nice dinner at home with my wife and spend the rest of the evening relaxing. I have a new-found respect for coaches (some of them). I can't imagine doing this every night of the week along with the actual games on the weekends.
But then some kid realizes (you can literally see it hit the back of their brains and bounce back to the front) that the drop step move he learned in practice works really well against a defender in a game and at that very moment, you know why you signed up for this.
Onward young b-ballers! May you forever play defense with your hands up! If not, I have a really taxing drill to help you remember.
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