The Last Buzzer
Basketball season just started for my oldest, which means this week is the first of the last. As a senior, it’s his last try-out, his last time to anticipate the season ahead, his last opportunity to feel the excitement of a calendar filled with court-side games and competition.
If I’m completely honest, I must admit I’ve both looked forward to and dreaded the start of this season. Because as much as I love cheering him on from those side-line bleachers, that final buzzer is going to crush me. When the last basket is shot and that buzzer sounds and he and his friends walk off that court with tears in their eyes knowing they won’t ever return, there’s no way I’ll be able to quell my own crushing sadness.
Because for a decade and a half, we’ve been his biggest fan. From soccer to basketball to baseball, this kid has lived with a ball in his hands. But basketball is his favorite. Basketball is where he’s poured out his blood, sweat and tears. Basketball is where he’s experienced soaring victories and crushing defeats. And basketball is where I’ve watched his long frame grow from a little boy with shorts hanging to his knees into the young man who now stands confidently upon that court.
How can it all end with one final buzzer?
I realize now, with the gift of perspective, what an immense privilege it has been to cheer this kid on. To get a front-row seat to the glorious chaos of it all. The carpooling, the practice, the driveway dribbling. The quiet drives home after a disappointing game and the exuberant dinners after a hard-fought win. When we were in the thick of it and the years yawned before us, I could have never imagined that last buzzer. I could have never imagined it would come so quickly.
But here we are … at the start of the final season. And although I can’t wait to don my navy and fill the calendar with games and cheer for my kid like a side-line lunatic, I won’t ever be ready for that final buzzer.
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