Endings are not always sad

This summer I wrote about how this would probably be Brett Favre's last season to play football and I went into the long list of memories I had of him playing throughout his career. In the last paragraph, I wrote that "endings are always sad". Last month something happened that made me change my mind.

I coach middle school girls and boys basketball. In the four years I've been there we've had some pretty good teams. At the end of every season we would take our teams to the T-N-T state middle school tournament outside of Nashville. Last year our girls won the tournament to finish 21-0 on the season. The feeling at the end of the game was great, but I also felt a little empty...like, "what do I do now"? At the end of every season, I feel a little disoriented and it takes a couple of weeks to move on. This year was different. It was the first year I didn't feel that way.

Our girls team this year was not as good as last year's team talent wise, but finished a very respectable 14-6. I had more fun this year than I did last year. The girls were very coachable and improved a great deal over the course of the season. Their attitudes were great and they played hard every single game. We decided not to go to the T-N-T tournament this year because it stretches our season out too long and the drive every week-end is not worth it. At the end of our last game we talked to our girls in the locker room and I haven't felt more satisfied about a team. We left the locker room knowing we had given our best the whole season and won more games than we probably should have.

Joe North and I coach both the boys and girls, so after we left the girls in the locker room we went out to coach the boys. Our boys team was talented, but small. I believe we finished the season with a losing record, but it didn't feel that way. The team we were playing that night was 0-18 and we knew we would end our season with a win. Before the game, their coach (who I knew from college) approached me and told me that he was going to let his manager dress out for this game. His manager was named Cody and Cody has Down's Syndrome. The coach told me he was going to put Cody in at the end of the game and he (the coach) asked if we would let him shoot a few shots. I told him of course and so we told our players what the plan was. By halftime, we led by 20 and at the end of the third quarter the game was all but over. Our 7th grade players were in by the time Cody entered the game. Garrett (the opposing coach) had marked an "x" with athletic tape so Cody would know where to stand on the court. We called a time-out and told our kids what to do. We lost the ball and Crockett County (the opposing team) dribbled down and passed it to Cody. He shot and missed and we got the rebound, then lost the ball back to him and he shot and scored. Every fan in the gym stood and cheered. I looked down at our bench and every one of our players was standing and cheering. Crockett County got the ball back and Cody scored again. He jumped up and down on his "x" that had been marked for him. We got the ball and went down the court and I noticed Cody staying on his end giving a thumbs up sign to his coach. Then I saw him leave the "x" and drift to the three point line. His teammate passed him the ball and he shot a three that was only about an inch short. He got it back and heaved the ball again. Nothing but net. The gym was deafining. I was jumping up and down, our kids were jumping up and down. The whole place was excited. The buzzer sounded and the game was over. Cody's teammates hugged him. Our guys gave him high fives and we went to our locker room to close out the season. I think everyone in our locker room knew we had ended the season the way we were supposed to. As I was walking across the court I saw Cody and his coach share a hug in the doorway of the locker room. You couldn't have scripted it better.

The next day Cody's mother emailed the school and thanked us for doing what we did. We should've thanked her and her son for helping us make the end of our season worthwhile. Endings aren't always sad. They're only sad if you have regrets about not doing the right thing.

Two weeks

Jordan is nearly two weeks old now. If you want to be exact, she's thirteen days. It's gone by fast, but thirteen days ago seems like forever. I don't know if that makes sense or not. Regardless, a lot has happened in these past thirteen days...a few lives have been changed. Almost everyone told me that my life would change forever once Jordan was born, but I don't feel like a different person. I still feel like me with just a little bit less time to do some of the things I used to do. There wasn't some giant epiphany or Damascus road light, there was just a baby. And she wakes up a couple times a night and I don't sleep as much as I did two weeks ago, but I'm used to it now. I keep her awake after Davina feeds her so she can stay on a schedule. I try to burp her and change her as best I can and then we put her down again. And we go through the same ritual an hour and a half later. She cries some and stares at nothing a lot. We're seeing a little personality, but nothing big. She's just a baby. She's just someone who's dependent on us for everything and we're doing our best to do what's best for her. Right now is the easy part. She's around one of us every second of every day. There's nothing to worry about now. At some point down the road there will be: "why isn't she answering her phone?", "why is she out past curfew?", "is she really where she says she is?". I like this part now and I didn't think I would. I know I'll miss it when it's gone.

Last Thursday night, I got a call at home from my principal telling me that three of our students had been in a wreck and one had died. I made my way to the hospital and stayed up there until twelve that night. There were at least 60 other students there showing support. The next day the counseling staff and the headmaster met at school and we stayed there five hours mapping out the day for Monday, trying to figure out what the best decisions to make were. Last night, there was a visitation for the student who passed away and once again there were many kids there supporting the family. I spoke with the parents of the boy who passed away and left not having any idea of what they were going through. I cannot imagine it. The only thing I kept thinking about was what it must have been like when their child was two weeks old. I guess that's all I could relate to that situation. Did they hold him and say things in choppy words and make stupid noises like I do with Jordan? Did they tense up and want to pull their hair out when he screamed at two o'clock in the morning? I do that now. I'm sure they did all those things that I'm doing now with my daughter. I don't know what it's like to lose a child...I don't even know what it's like to watch a child grow up, but I know that I like where I am right now with my daughter. I get to hold her when I want to and make every decision for her. I know I won't always be able to do that. One day she'll have her own thoughts and her own decisions to make and at some point I will cease to be the biggest influence in her life. Maybe I underestimated how much I would like the newborn stage.