It was February 2012. High School Sub-State Basketball was underway and NCAA March Madness had a little early “madness” competition as far as I’m concerned. Collegiate basketball is exciting stuff for sure, but the precursor to that happens in high school gyms all over the country and I think it’s every bit as exciting in it’s own way – especially for the families of the players.
We were in a very loud, very crowded high school gym watching our nephew play in the sub-state championship game. Our nephew’s team had played their hearts out against a long-time rival. The game was in the other team’s hometown and on their court, so the home team advantage was crystal clear. It was evident that the people of that small town took high school basketball pretty seriously.
The game was close; the two teams were evenly matched which made for the kind of “sitting-on-the-edge-of-your-seat” competition that is so much fun to watch. The Wildcat team was down by one, and our nephew was fouled with two seconds left on the game clock.
You’ll just have to imagine the noise in that high school gym. How that 17-year-old kid kept his composure is beyond me, but he somehow had it sorted.
Stepping up to the free throw line, he had to hear the crowd grow even louder. The other team’s fans knew that two successful shots were all that stood between them and a trip to State – and they were pretty used to going to State.
I looked around the stands and exchanged a grin with the lady who sat a few rows away. Her son was on the same team as our nephew and I could tell she was nervous. I don’t even think we were breathing at that point. My sister and brother-in-law were on their feet watching their kid – they knew how many times he’d been outside over the years practicing free throws at the hoop on their driveway. All those shots he had taken – staying out till he was shooting by the light of a setting sun – had put muscle memory deep, maybe knowing somehow that he was doing prep work for this exact moment.
The ref handed him the ball and he bounced it once. Twice.
The release. The arch. The swish.
And then there we were – yelling like crazy people. Two dads in front of us grabbed each other in a bear hug, while my sister stood quietly in the stands – watching her boy. The crowd got even louder – one more bucket and our team would advance to State play.
At the line again after getting high fives and fist bumps from his teammates, my nephew stood with his hands on his hips; a serious look on his face. He knew what was riding on the next shot.
The ref blew his whistle and handed him the ball. One bounce, then another.
Another shot. Another arch. Another swish.
Oh, my goodness. P A N D E M O N I U M pretty much broke out in that gymnasium. There were about 1000 people in the building that night and everybody just sort of went nuts. He did it!! The Wildcat bench emptied and our nephew was tackled by his teammates in frenzied excitement. A few of the boys had tears in their eyes and the kids in the student section poured out onto the hardwood – eager to help celebrate the big win.
I love this story. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of it over the last decade. And you know why? Because it’s a microcosm of this:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” *
That’s taken from a famous speech given by Theodore Roosevelt. Many of you likely read it in a high school or college literature class. My nephew was in the arena that night…and so were the other kids from both teams. They had deliberately prepared for that game. They had rehearsed offensive and defensive plays so often they could probably do them in their sleep. They had headed to the weight room early in the morning and late at night. They had stood at the line taking shot after shot. They had practiced hard and played even harder.
That devotion and commitment to something worthy is an inspiration to me. Every single day, so many of you are doing exactly the same thing in your own arenas – though you may not realize it or think of it in those terms.
It’s much easier to recognize it when athletes are in the arena, isn’t it? We have the crowd, the spectators, the action going on right in front of us. It’s a little less obvious for those of us going through the daily-ness of our days. But think about these real-life examples:
- Teachers: When I hear their stories, I’m just in awe. They show up every day and make lifelong differences for countless kids. My sister is one of my heroes for that very reason.
- Physicians, nurses, PA’s, lab techs – anyone in the medical field: What in the world would we do without them? My personal physician spends day after day taking thoughtful, deliberate care of me and all of her other patients. Do I wait (sometimes quite a while!) to see her? I do. But I don’t mind because I know she’s giving someone else the care that she will soon give me. I admire her more than any doctor I’ve ever met.
- Engineers, designers, architects, planners: I know we get tired of the orange construction cones on our streets and highways; frustrated sometimes due to the roadwork that seems to take forever. But I work with civil and transportation engineers and am amazed at the level of planning and talent that goes into making those roads of ours safe and sustainable.
The list for me is endless: my husband, my girls, my boys, the IT professional at my office, my friend who counsels troubled kids, Jon – who has gotten us safely on the road multiple times in the last 15 years, the police and firemen who answer every call, every time.
I could fill a book with the “arena” people that I know. And conversely, I could also fill a book with those who sit on the sidelines “ranting about the same old bitter things” like that Taylor Swift song says.* But I stopped listening to people like that years ago, and so should you. Their negative views on life take up way too much time. And of course time is a non-renewable resource…we have to guard it carefully and use it wisely.
So, when you’re in the midst of hard things, scary things, times when there’s so much at stake, and you hear the critical one on the sidelines – pointing out how the strong stumble and how what was done could have been done better – well, you just ignore them. You set your face like flint and think instead of people the world over who right now are standing on some sort of a line.
That’s your crowd…those are your people – the ones with faces marred by dust and sweat; the ones who are out there getting something done – every single day.
So, stand up straight. Take a deep breath. And daring greatly, take another shot.
*Roosevelt, Jr. Theodore. (1910, April 23). Citizenship in a Republic – Paris: The Sorbonne.
*Swift, Taylor. (2011). Speak Now. Big Machine Records.