Basketball is such a great game. It's filled with life-long lessons and rewards that can often help us help others in sharing the game.
And for many of us, there might be a special moment that we reflect back on in appreciation for our successes and turnovers in playing or coaching the game.
For me, I'll never forget when I was a skinny freshman in high school and had just finished playing a 3-on-3 pick-up game in the gym. A silver-haired gentleman had sat on the bleachers and watched the sloppy play. Then after we finished, the other players headed out of the gym to get something to drink.
I grabbed the basketball and kept shooting. The gentleman came over to me and asked: "Can I give you a tip on shooting the ball?" he asked politely.
"Sure," I said, and he talked about using proper technique and backspin. He showed me the right way to shoot, then asked me to demonstrate. He rebounded while I shot 25 jumpers, clapping his hands softly and saying "nice job" as I released the "corrected" shot.
"Good job," he said. "If you continue to work on that proper technique, you have a chance to be a very good shooter."
I didn't know who he was. Later I found out he was the father of our school's star player, a skilled 6-foot-4 senior forward who would go on to play college basketball. The elder man loved the game and would occasionally pass on advice to help others if they were willing to listen.
I never told the man that my goal was to play college basketball, too. I thought he might have laughed at me, because at 5-foot-5, 115 pounds, I wasn't the most intimidating semi-athlete at that time. But I accepted his advice and made a commitment to myself to work hard on that proper form on my jumpshot.
I played on the junior varsity level for two seasons and then two years of varsity. I kept working on my shot and didn't see the silver-haired gentleman again until the last couple of games in my senior year. We were battling for the league title and a chance to go to a postseason tournament.
He would always wave and say "nice job," but we never talked much.
We didn't win the league title -- the other team was better, but we got to go to the postseason tournament. The crowds were big and I never saw the gentleman the rest of that season.
The next year, I played at a small college in Northern California, on the junior varsity team. The crowds were small and I noticed at a handful of our home games, way up at the top of the bleachers, was the silver-haired man, who had driven 25 miles to watch.
After the games that he attended, he would walk down the bleachers, wave and say "nice job" to me as he headed out of the gym. Of course, he loved watching basketball, but he also might have been there to see if that advice he had given me five years before had paid off.
I'll always appreciate the 20 to 25 minutes he spent helping me that day on my jumpshot. In the end, it eventually led to me getting a basketball scholarship and being the first person in my family to graduate college.
But those valuable minutes also passed along his important message to me, to share the game. Just remember, the few minutes you spend with a youngster could have a positive influence on him or her for a lifetime.