Over my two decades at North Haven Community School, I’ve developed a fondness for basketball.
Not televised basketball (although I, too, was swept up in the women’s NCAA excitement last year) or any basketball where I haven’t known the players since birth, or at least kindergarten. Just the North Haven Hawks.
I’ve been to countless basketball games, especially since many of them are held during the school day, and cheered for my students. Some of them are now coaches themselves. It’s the circle of life.
This year, I’ve gone from fan through proximity to basketball parent, as Pen is now old enough to join the Busline League. I was supportive, of course, since basketball is deeply enmeshed in North Haven culture. But over the course of this remarkable season,
I’ve gone from a sports skeptic to a true believer.
I went into the role of basketball parent with low expectations and a few preconceived notions. I am a non-athlete (at least in a team sports context), so it’s easy for me to fall into the same bias where Pen is concerned.
The underdog sports-movie vibe of it all came to its logical conclusion…
But she isn’t me, and she can catch and throw with pretty normal accuracy. I was still surprised, however, when she (and the entire team) started getting playing time in the very first game.
I’m used to seeing her on stage, but the edge-of-my-seat tension of watching my child play basketball introduced me to a new level of anxiety. I think I held my breath for the entire two minutes she was on the court. She looked mildly terrified, too, mostly at the prospect of having to interact physically with the members of the opposing team.
But quickly, under the exceptional coaching of Lindsey Beverage and Liza Waterman, she started gaining knowledge, skills, and the confidence that comes with both. In fact, the whole team did.
And soon, the Busline Hawks—a shorter-than-average co-ed team, typically matched against boys teams that might be populated primarily by eighth graders—started winning. A lot.
And while the team does have some stand-out players, the main strategy the coaches employed seemed to be one of inclusion.
Every player was on the court at least once in every game, barring illness or injury. Every player had an understanding of their strengths. Every player was tasked with being a knowledge keeper for the ins and outs of their plays.
I know this because my own player took it upon herself to teach me the plays after practice, patiently trying to guide me through the difference between a screen and a box-out under the tiny basketball hoop in our kitchen.
The underdog sports-movie vibe of it all came to its logical conclusion towards the end of the season. Pen had overcome her hesitancy and was now more than willing to fight for the ball. But her coaches didn’t stop there.They employed a series of plays designed to get the smallest players on the team up to the basket to give them opportunities to score points.
Pen’s best friend was the first one to make a shot, and the crowd went wild. Pen ran over to hug her in the middle of game play, and her friend was carried out like a queen at the end of the game.
Pen’s turn came during the team’s home playoff game. I knew it was a possibility, but I was completely unprepared for the tsunami of emotion that I felt watching her set up, shoot, score, and celebrate. The crowd, which filled both sets of bleachers in our gym, gave her a standing ovation. By the end of the game, every single player on the team had scored points at least once that season.
And so, I’m converted. My uneasy feelings about team sports—that they only reward natural talent, that they encourage inter-team competition, that coaches will sacrifice inclusion for the sake of winning—were turned on their head.
Thanks to her coaches creating an environment in which every player is nurtured and her peers’ willingness to celebrate each small success, Pen believes in her abilities as a basketball player. And so do I.
Courtney Naliboff teaches at North Haven Community School. She may be contacted at Courtney.Naliboff@gmail.com.
