Loosely Organize, Sprinkle with Chaos
Highs, lows, laughs, and tears. Join me in this excerpt from Below the 8-Foot Rim as I look back on the fun, joy, and chaos of sports and remember to celebrate life's small, joyful moments.
“Loosely Organize, Sprinkle with Chaos” is the last chapter of Below the 8-Foot Rim, a collection of short stories about coaching youth basketball, loving a game, and celebrating joy in life’s beautiful little moments with love and enthusiasm.
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Loosely Organize, Sprinkle with Chaos
Before the last game of the season, I stood under our basket next to Sammy’s mom watching the team warmup. Her face wore a big smile as we laughed a bit, reminiscing about the past ten or so weeks. I sensed she knew I’d miss the team—its energy, its enthusiasm, and the keeping-me-on-my-toes moments—and that I’d be relieved, too, when this game’s final buzzer sounded.
The Saturday prior was Sammy’s birthday. As we talked, I asked about the rest of the weekend after our game. They had a party full of friends, family, cake, and presents—all the celebrations fitting for another trip around the sun. The day had been perfect, she shared. Then, she paused and watched the team cheering, clapping, and high fiving a string of made layups. Her smile spread wider across her face.
“Last Saturday night,” she started, “after the party and presents and everything, I asked him if he had a favorite part of his birthday. You know what he said? When the team sang happy birthday to him after the game.” After a short bit of silence, she added, “Thank you.”
I grinned and nodded my head, then looked out at the team where our organized layup drill had given way to one half of the team chasing the other half in a free-for-all game of tag.
“Not me,” I said. “The singing and celebration was all them.” I pointed at the squad.
“This team,” she shook her head and chuckled near disbelief.
“One of a kind,” I said. “You truly cannot make it up.”
🏀 Sports stories usually come with a hero or, if not, at least some takeaways meant to make all the cliches count for something. Stories where the coach starts the season planning to teach the kids lessons about life only to wind up being the one who learns about themself along the way. Stories constructed to portray saviors. And ones meant to re-see history through rose-colored tint, where individual differences get cast aside for the good of the whole and winning always cures all. Stories where the team starts the season as a rag-tag collection of strangers only to somehow coalesce into a cohesive collective, playing its best just in time to win something.
Stories meant to explain life through the odd bounces of a ball.
Well, we won our first four games and lost our last three, and—if I’m being truthful—my coaching preference of loose organization sprinkled with chaos probably cost us a game or two. As for saviors and rewriting history, most of the time I just held on, hoping to survive through the next practice bound to go haywire or the next game set to leave me with an energy tank on empty, voice clawed out by a tiger, and nerves burnt like a bad bucket of chicken. Most moments, I just wanted to survive the stress so I could look back on the fun later.
This is not a book for lessons or takeaways or some tired do this but don’t do that wisdom. It’s a lot simpler than that.
This is a book about joy and having fun while playing basketball. About trying not to take things too seriously while still learning a new game. About meeting new people, being on a team, and learning from others while discovering a bit about yourself. About hitting bumps and missing shots. About keeping on and always taking more heaves at the basket.
It’s about the little laughs during practice and the big smiles while eating donuts after a game. The songs, dances, trash-talk, high-steps, and high-fives. About living in life’s tiny moments, the ones so often easy to miss, but the ones, too, that ignite a spark in us when we do capture them. Like being young and holding the light of a lightning bug in your palm, even if only for a second.
When I think back on this season, I see us at practice on Monday nights. I roll two eight-foot baskets in front of the real hoops and pace an empty gym fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to start. I’m all nervous energy waiting and wondering not only who will show up for practice but what version of them will enter the gym.
Soon, basketballs bounce and feet zigzag around the court. Shots clang off the rim in every direction. We argue over who wears the little green practice jerseys during the scrimmage. I sigh, watching us shoot three-pointer after three-pointer even though layups are our bread and butter.
Voices ricochet from the narrow court off the brick walls. Cheers fill the gym. We clap and yell and in all these loud moments—when my ears ring and my whistles become useless—I question why I always encourage the teeter-totter of practice to tilt toward loud and energized over boring, quiet, and routine.
When I think back on this season, I think, too, about the fun of Saturday mornings.
Waking up more nervous than I should be for a U8 Recreation Basketball game. Driving for a cup of coffee. Setting the lineup and panicking over juggling equal playing time for eleven players. Pacing the sideline. Shouting ‘hands up’ on defense and ‘shoot it’ on offense. Sharing confused glances with Coach T and high-fives with Hatch.
I look back and see our squad gathered after a close loss. Some heads are down but that never lasts long. Sammy passes out the donuts he brought for his birthday and soon two of his teammates start singing. Players and coaches join in a chorus of happy birthday, and all that matters are the snacks and the celebration.
We cheer. We celebrate. We enjoy the moment together as a team.
When I think back on this season, I see all these memories and know they probably matter more to me than anyone else. Still, I can’t help but think these memories capture exactly what sports are about.
A team and its personalities. Stress followed by joy. Chaos sprinkled atop attempts at organization. Laughter mixed with fun. And all the small moments that make these feelings so special.