To say my son is a sports fan would be a huge understatement. He loves watching, playing, talking about and thinking about sports. He does not get this trait from me, but from his father, who is also a huge sports fan. My husband's favorite sports to play are soccer and basketball. In fact, he was the captain of his varsity basketball team.
Partially because of this, when my son was 4 years old I signed him up for his first basketball class at the local rec center. I figured that, genetically, he was programmed to pick up a basketball and start dribbling. That was not the case, and for that first hour, he repeatedly slammed the ball down onto his foot, causing the ball to careen forward across the gym. My son's first experience with the game of basketball was an hour of pure humiliation; running helplessly across a gym floor chasing runaway basketballs. Needless to say, it was brutal. I think it was hard for my son, too.
When we got home, I took my husband aside and strongly suggested that he do some training with Abe. We had big expectations of that boy, and he was not going in a good direction. At four, he had not yet found sports. He was thoroughly obsessed with superheroes, and had only recently discovered the Jedi warriors. At this rate, he would not make varsity captain. My husband moved quickly into action; he got his basketball out of the storage shed, and there, on my Mexican tile kitchen floor, the tot started learning how to dribble. This made way for a new direction for Abe, away from his beloved Star Wars, and thus a new chapter had begun.
He practiced obsessively in the kitchen, much to my chagrin (but careful what you wish for) and eventually moved to the front walkway. For his 5th birthday we bought him a hoop. Since we didn't have a driveway, we set it up in the back yard on the grass. It was there that he started to learn to shoot. In fact, for his fifth birthday, we had about 20 kids in the back yard doing drills. Girls, too.
He continued to get better and better, partly because of his innate sports talent and partly because of his obsessive personality. The year he turned 5, he couldn't take his eyes off the NCAA players in March Madness. He started to really understand the game and its nuances. Even at the young age of 6 or 7, he would watch the NBA players and study their moves. A few years later, after we had moved to Acton, he started playing basketball in the winter in the community league. He excelled in the league and often felt good about his performance. You could see his little self-esteem developing, and the challenges that he overcame also contributed to that developing person inside his small frame. Big fish in a little pond.
Last year, when he was 9, we discovered that if I adjusted him before a game, especially while he was visualizing success in the game, his performance improved. We got into the habit of doing an adjustment before he left the house for the game. He would visualize himself putting the ball in the basket, going for a layup, making his free throws, and I would adjust him while he was thinking. It was remarkable; for me it was validation of the power of an adjustment. A subluxation can affect our thought patterns and behavior; getting rid of it can produce clarity and turn a whole attitude around! For Abe, this was a tool he could use to focus his good energy and to feel like he was being proactive instead of having jitters about the game.
This year, at age 10, Abe tried out for the travel basketball team. We weren't surprised that he made it, given his performance in the last few years. I was so proud of him, and proud for him - happy for this boost to his self-confidence. What I didn't realize, that so many parents already know, is that being on a travel team is a huge deal. The kids who make them team are all the big fish. This means that a child who has been at the top of his game is now playing with kids who might be better, or much better.
Today, Abe had his very first game with the travel team. He went to bed last night with the jitters. He woke earlier than usual and told my husband he didn't want to play. It's such a human emotion, fear. It can sometimes take us over. It's hard to explain to a 10 year old boy that you can "feel the fear and do it anyway," a very adult concept. So I told him the story of the TV show. Then I adjusted him visualizing confidence and visualizing making his shots. When we got to the game, I felt nervous for him. He seemed unsure and unlike his usual competent self out there on the court. Then, as if a switch flipped, I saw him snap into action - one move, one open shot, he took it, and SCORE! The crowd yelled. I watched his demeanor change in that moment, saw his swagger return. He ended up playing very well, making some very impressive shots and passes, and when he came out each time, everyone applauded.
I know he learned a great lesson today about fear and moving through it. I also know that this 10 year old is definitely not interested in talking about it with his mom. But I will keep adjusting those good positive thoughts into him. and I will watch him learning and climbing and jumping and quietly feel proud for him and of him, and be there when he falls off the pole early. I will repel him back to safety. That's my job.
