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Kids playing sports has changed over my lifetime. When I was a kid, 99% of the baseball, basketball, football and hockey games we played were pick-up games without a uniform.

Today, and for many years, it seems that 99% of the games kids play involve a uniform, a parent, and some kind of dispute over who gets playing time. But of course, I'm from a generation that left the house in the morning or after school and was not seen again until the streetlights came on.

I had the opportunity to be a 'helicopter' parent for one basketball season and today's Weblog includes the limited details of what I recall about that memorable season. It involves a tough parental decision, some sportsmanship, and a little inspiration.

Just like some songwriters say things like 'I wrote that song in 45 minutes,' I can say that I sat down at the computer and wrote this story in 45 minutes. The words and memories came rushing back.

This is the story of an AAU Basketball Team that had a perfect record. It didn’t win a game. 

But if the purpose of team sports for kids is to teach lessons about working together, determination and a positive attitude, the season was a great success from the perspective of both the kids and the parents.

Inside our garage, with a piece of plywood, an orange metal hoop, and a little white paint, I recreated a basketball backboard and rain or shine, we'd play a little one on one.

My son Joe uses a wheelchair now, but in elementary school he was able to walk using leg braces, slowly and sometimes unsteadily, but he could walk. He could not run and could not jump. But he could dribble a basketball. We played in the driveway shooting, passing and dribbling.

One day a neighbor suggested that Joe join the local AAU (Amateur Athletic Union) kids basketball program in our town, Memphis, because it was a large organization and there was sure to be a place for someone like Joe who could dribble and pass.

Being the parent of someone with special needs is a tricky job in many ways, and this idea posed some risk. If participating in some way on a basketball team could help Joe’s self-esteem, I was all in. But if it damaged his self-esteem, I was all out. Like many other challenges, it was hard to know.

On a Saturday morning my neighbor arranged for Joe and me to meet the basketball director inside a local high school gym where he was supervising a program. I voiced my concern.

He told me it was a simple decision. He said something like “I’m going to pass a basketball to Joe. If he catches it and can then throw it back to me, over my head, he can play and get the benefits of being on a team.”

He threw. Joe caught. Joe threw it back over his head. He nodded, and we were part of a newly formed team.

This wasn't a 'select' team, but a team of kids, new to organized basketball, who were probably thrilled to put on the t-shirt, head to the gym and be coached.

Practices were twice per week and consisted of dribbling drills, passing drills, and shooting drills. I believe the basket was only eight feet high instead of the standard ten-foot height, so Joe did well in practice. Not the fastest, not the tallest, not the strongest, but he held his own as a member of the team. He could dribble, he could pass, and he could shoot a little. Practices were fun.

When it was time for the first game, there needed to be an ‘accommodation’ but it wasn’t what you might think. 

On defense, when the other team had the ball, Joe was expected to play zone defense, guard an area, slide his feet, keep his hands up, and all that stuff.

The accommodation was this: after the other team scored, one of his teammates would pass the ball inbounds to Joe and he would dribble to the half court line and pass it to another teammate. He would then carefully walk back to his spot in the zone coverage and wait until the other team had possession, and then he would get to play defense.

This strategy meant that Joe’s team was always playing only four on offense versus the other team’s five on defense, but, at that age, it really didn’t matter that much. When the other team got the ball and headed down to the basket, guarded by Joe, he was back in the action again.

I might add that these games were being played at the YMCA court and were standing room only because of parents and games being played back-to-back to back.

There was something organically inspirational about the kid with leg braces, being out on the court trying his best, trying harder than everyone else.

The practices were fun, the games were exciting (full house, lots of noise), and the fact that the team hadn’t won a game all year, didn’t seem to matter that much. It was kids being kids.

The two most memorable moments from that season happened near the end of the year. Towards the end of one game, Joe’s teammates encouraged him to take the ball over half court once, (not sure if the coaches were involved, maybe not) and ‘drive’ to the basket and attempt a shot. He did. 

I can’t be sure, but I believe the kids on the other team may have parted a bit and Joe had a clear path to the basket. When the ball swished through the hoop, the YMCA gym erupted in a standing ovation. 

Everyone knew they had witnessed something they would never forget. A disabled kid, trying his best, made a basket that inspired the assembly of adults and kids. The kids on both teams demonstrated the kind of sportsmanship, in different ways, that the parents hoped they would learn when they started the journey.

Then, in the last game of the season, a frightening experience was witnessed by the crowd, that they also would never forget. 

Joe was back playing defense underneath the basket and a ‘kid’ on the other team stole the ball and was barreling in for a layup. The ‘kid’ was a huge ten-year-old, maybe 50 pounds heavier than Joe. Joe did what he was coached to do: he blocked the path to the basket. When the big kid plowed into the kid with leg braces a true ‘hush fell over the crowd’ as Joe took the charge.

The collision was loud, looked bad, and everyone thought the worst. Until the first kid got back on his feet. That first kid was Joe, and the gym collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Then the big kid got up, but not right away. When he finally got to his feet, the gym erupted. Oh, and by the way, he didn’t score. I guess that little guy with leg braces was tougher than he looked and knew how to play good defense.

The season ended, and Joe's basketball career continued for another season. It was fun while it lasted.

It might be an exaggeration that everyone who saw Joe play basketball that way came away a better person, but everyone who saw Joe play basketball that way will remember him, especially the ‘collision.’

Joe, like many people with disabilities, don’t really concentrate on the fact that the impact they have on others is where they change the world. 

As a result of connecting with the kid with leg braces there were people not feeling as sorry for themselves, people inspired by the effort it takes someone with a disability to thrive, and people who appreciated what they had in life a little bit more, all because they were impacted by a kid with leg braces.