Have you ever had a dream for your son come crashing down, all at once, like that enormous chandelier in the Phantom of the Opera? Turns out, it happened to me today, as I realized that my son will never play in the NBA.
When your son is in the 1 percentile of height and weight at every doctor's appointment - it does not mean much at the time. When it does matter is when he is playing Junior Jazz with a bunch of kids a foot taller than him. Lincoln's second ever Junior Jazz game included the following:
- His coach was great and wanted to ensure that he touch the ball during the game by having someone pass him the ball after the other team scored. When he got the ball, he turned and shot at the opposing team's basket. Fortunately, he missed.
- Lincoln's standing, unaware and daydreaming in the corner of the court while both teams ran down at full speed. My kid is officially the kid playing deep, deep left field. Fortunately, there are not any gnats to swat at in a gym.
- Lincoln, the smallest and scrawniest kid on the court by a long shot, actually avoiding the ball when it rolled to him. I mean, turning and watching it roll right by him. The ball might as well have been covered in boogers and cooties.
- During the quarters that he sat, Lincoln was more interested in playing with Calder and his little cousin rather and completely ignored the game. And my favorite...
- Lincoln was assigned to guard the girl on the opposing team. While the game is actually going on, he and the girl get nose to nose and stare at each other. After about five seconds, they both laugh and smile at each other and then run off. Remember, this is while the action is going on all around them.
Now, if you know Lincoln, you know he is the kindest, most unassuming kid you have ever met and that is a bit of his downfall for him when it comes to organized sports. His aggressive meter is set to a 1.5 out of 1o. I think that if he actually stole the ball from another player he would feel badly for them and give it back. I am not sure he even knows what competition is.
Given his temperament and ability to get along with others, you can tell that he is very well liked by the other players. He also left the court each time with a huge smile on his face and if anything, he liked running up and down the court at breakneck speeds. (Of course, that is when he was running and not daydreaming about Disneyland.)
So, we are not sure that organized team sports are Lincoln's thing. Honestly, I don't really care that he may never play basketball at a high level - he's got so many other talents and skills that basketball is probably the least on his priority list. We might sign him up for swimming, music or a staring league. Heaven knows he would take first place in staring. In the mean time, he seems to enjoy playing basketball and seeing some new friends each week, so we will make the most of it while it lasts. So instead of making his dad millions in the NBA, he will make his dad millions being the next Ryan Seacrest, only a male version.
As it turns out, the chandelier in the Phantom never breaks, they just string it back up every day for the next show.