HOOPS: You think the Runnin Utes have personnel problems? You should see my Jr. Jazz team.
Posted By: Gilly
<vandamanfan@yahoo.com>
Date: Thursday, 10 January 2002, at 10:16 p.m.
Ugh. Where to begin.
OK. Last Saturday, we had a practice, AND picture day. I have 11 players, and 5 of them were on time for practice/pictures. Six of my 10-11 year olds went Barry Bonds on me and didn't show up for the team picture, expecting me and the picture company to super-impose their single face-shots on the team photo at some later date. I didn't appreciate that, but in this day and age when the players make so much more than the coaches, I knew that if I made any noise the owner would side with the players.
Then came Wednesday night's game. I knew we were in for a tough game for two reasons. One - -this is the second go-round against conference opponents, and I knew everyone would be looking for revenge, as my team is undefeated. Two -- I went to shake hands with the other coach before the game, and not only were there TWO coaches, but they had a super-cool mini white board with a hoop court on it, so they could draw plays for their team at timeouts and at the half. I immediately had dry-erase-marker envy and retreated to my bench, where I am the only coach. My feelings of inadequacy were immense.
Tuesday, I had been informed that the quickest player on the team had suffered a broken nose, and was out. THere he was, being a trooper and showing up for the game with a badly swollen nose, to sit on the bench and cheer his teammates on. Consider this guy our Chris Burgess.
When the refs blew the whistle to signal the start of the game, my 7 available players came to the bench, and realized something terrible. The only girl on the team (and in the league, for that matter), was not there. (You can almost see the Spivey parallels coming). Not only is she the best player on the team (and in the league, for that matter), but the 10 boys on the team all have crushes on her. I was faced with more 11 year old angst than I am capable of handling.
"Where IS she? Is she coming? PLEASE tell us you called her and she's on her way. We cannot play without her."
(I'm not kidding here. She's so good, that even in this overly-competitive leauge, parents and coaches from other teams come up to me after games and gush "WHo is that GIRL? She is awesome!")To show how deep the feelings run for this player, the previous game I had sent her in the game, and one boy(the oldest one on the team -- who is the oldest Ute? Cam Koford?) on the bench said, "You have to play me at the same time as her!" and began punching me repeatedly.
So now the game began, we are missing our best player and our quickest player and our chief ballhandler (Spivey and Burgess. it is so obvious) and we battle away. We battled a hostile crowd, hostile refs, hostile rims, pre-pubescent angst. You name it, we battled it.
Since I aspire to Majerus's coaching ability, girth, and hair quantity, the team greatly resembles the Utes. Uhhhhh, a little. Anyway, what I'm always preaching and what they concentrate on is rebounding. If you've ever seen a Jr. Jazz game, you know most shots are missed -- kind of like a Utah-St. Mary's contest. The team built a 6 point lead, but couldn't expand it. Foul shooting was keeping the other team in the game.
Our Cameron Koford wannabe kept asking me to call a timeout, but I knew this would just give the other coach -- obviously a master strategist -- a chance to use his whiteboard. I kept quiet. Finally, when this boy went into the game for the 4th quarter, he grabbed a beautiful rebound, and instead of starting the fastbreak, he called a TO.
The team came to the sideline, and looked at me expectantly. I looked right back, expectantly. There was a heavy silence. We all knew we were in a close game, we weren't hitting many shots, the Hoop Goddess (the girl's nickname) was not there to bail us out. There really wasn't anything to say (I hoped).
The team went back on the floor, and despite not scoring for the final four minutes (sound familiar???) managed to win the game. I had really wanted to score 41 points, to match the Utes, but we only managed 32. The great thing was --everyone scored and played well to make up for the loss of some of our best players. Everyone was happy, and ate their post-game twinkie with the unabashed joy of an 11 year old who has won a game and has no homeword due the next day.
I went to shake hands with the other team thinking a couple things:
1. My Shoot-whenever-you-want-to philosophy had outdone their whiteboard plays on this given night, and
2. Maybe Monday night's Utah win over St. Mary's wasn't an ugly win, but a beautiful triumph over adversity and a bonding experience for the whole team.
We'll get our Hoop Goddess back, just like the Utes will get back Spivey and Burgess. And while we'll welcome her back with open arms, and know that she'll help us in future games, but we'll know that in her absence, we found depths of resolve that were heretofore unmined.
Now, if she decides she likes one of the boys more than the others, then there is a SERIOUS problem............
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