Heart Lessons

“You know what your problem is? You can’t execute.”

An agency executive told me this once, early in my career. He wasn’t being kind about it, either, because he wasn’t that kind of a person. His words were sharp and cutting, leaving little scars on my insecure psyche.

Years later, while slogging through my novel’s second draft, I wrote YOU CAN’T EXECUTE on an index card, which I pinned to the wall above my desk. For years, I’ve worked against that executive’s edict, turning it into a challenge to overcome as I’ve taught myself how to structure a novel while writing it (an approach I don’t necessarily recommend), develop in-depth characters, advance a plot, cut the superlatives, separate my ego from my story, etc.

I’m knee-deep in my umpteenth round of revisions with the goal of self-publishing this spring. While I love what I have created and am excited to ship this project and move on to the next, there are still days when my friend, Self Doubt, chimes in with her destructive judgements.

“You know you’re not good enough, maybe you should just give up?”

Self Doubt reminds me that I’m not the pedigree of a writer who gets published. I don’t have my MFA. I wrote for an arts and entertainment magazine in college, but no literary magazines have ever picked up my work. These are two big strikes in an industry that loves to look down its nose at anyone who doesn’t check its boxes.

Which is all to say: it’s been a long, dark slog of a rain-soaked winter. There have been days when I let Self Doubt win. Others, I’ve managed to ignore her, sit my butt in the chair, and press on. But throughout these endless months, I’ve found respite and inspiration from the unlikeliest sources – a young, 1A high school basketball squad.

The Alsea High School boys’ basketball team is comprised of freshmen, sophomores, two juniors, and one senior (the other senior had to miss the season with an injury). Most games, they’re the youngest on the court and rarely the tallest, but here’s the thing: these kids can hustle, and they can ball. They’ve battled more stacked, experienced teams throughout the season, often losing by only a few points, while incrementally developing their collective skillset and team cohesion as the weeks have rolled on.

In January, Alsea lost to their rivals by five, but my parents and I drove home from that game feeling elated because of the breakneck effort the boys put forth. They gave the opposing team, with its flashy new uniforms, transfer players, and a coach who never stopped yapping at the refs a run for their money. They invested their all – and they damn near won – and it’s been thrilling to witness how these young men never lose heart. Week after week, they show up with what they have, they go hard, and this past Saturday, I realized the lesson they’ve been offering the rest of us who’ve watched this season unfold.

In a district game for a chance to advance to the state playoffs, Alsea played Mapleton – a team they lost to twice in the regular season (once by 20 points). Mapleton’s roster clocks three kids at well over six feet.

The game was physical, resembling something closer to a rugby match at times, but through sheer will and boundless determination, Alsea remained within striking distance all four quarters.

The game was so physical that Alsea had four players fouled out by the time they tied it up at the buzzer and sent it into overtime. The coaches tapped two freshmen and a sophomore who have led the JV squad all year – it was their turn to step up. One of the kids dropped a three-pointer and then aced two free throws; another scrapped hard in the paint, pulling down rebounds and hitting clutch short shots as the team battled through the first overtime and into a second.

My voice is still scratchy from screaming so loud for those kids.

“Which one is your son?” asked a woman sitting nearby.

“Well, none of them,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, uncertainty flashing across her face as she was likely perplexed as to why I was cheering like a maniac for a bunch of kids who don’t belong to me.

“I have a nephew on the team,” I added, feeling the need to clarify, “and my brother is an assistant coach.

“Ah,” she nodded.

“But I love them all,” I said.

Because I do.

And I know that everyone from my little hometown who makes the long drives over the mountains and through the woods to cheer on these kids while they play this beautiful game shares in that love. How can you not?

These scrappy teens have reminded us of what you can accomplish if you ignore the odds, show up, and play with all your heart.

What a lesson.

I read that old, old story from 1 Samuel 1:17 this morning, the one about the young shepherd who takes on the great Philistine warrior that had caused the entire Israeli army to tremble and flee. What stands out to me about the story of David and Goliath is not that David was able to take down the giant with a stone and a sling (the kid had been wrestling lions and bears in the wilderness; life had prepared him for battle) but that David goes on to thrive as a beloved leader in the face of jealousy and slander because he was a humble person with a good heart.

“In everything he did he had great success, because the LORD was with him.”

1 Samuel 18:14

On Wednesday, the Alsea Boys Basketball team will make the six-hour drive to Crane, Oregon, to play in a state playoff game. Crane is the three-time defending 1A state champion. They have five kids on their roster above six feet tall; one is 6’-7”. Their team is renowned, revered, undeniably good, etc. Respect where it’s due.

But high school sports come and go, and while I wish the Alsea boys the best of luck on Wednesday, I hope they know that they’ve already inspired many. In their quiet little way, this team has reminded us to eagerly accept great challenges, to stay scrappy, hungry, and humble, to keep chipping away at the goal, and to keep grinning, even when the odds aren’t in your favor. If these young men continue with such humble hearts of leaders, they will only continue to win.

Photo by Rowan Simpson on Unsplash