Ethan
When you were 1, you shot hoops. Pretty good for a toddler, too. You had just learned to walk upright and me and your mom had bought you this plastic baby basketball hoop. And you loved it. I have the video somewhere.
When you were 4, you looked at me in tears after I berated you for crying and not joining your first soccer game. "You never taught me how" you said, through tears. I felt horrible and vowed to never let you feel that way again.
When you were 5, I started to push you from soccer to football. And you played one very successful flag football season. But soon after, you started regularly stating your intent: I will be a basketball player. Not like it was a question either.
I admit I kind of wanted you to be a football player. But then 2 things happened. First my dad flooded me with articles about the health risks of football. Then, you impressed me and everyone in the family with your familiar, repeating resolve: you would be a basketball player.
Two summers ago, as an 8 year old, you were the starting point guard and arguably the team's best player as a 2nd grader on a team in a league full of 3rd, 4th and 5th graders. E-train Higgins had a reverse layup that couldn't be defended, and a dribble that couldn't be broken.
This year, you blossomed. In the city-wide 4th-grade YMCA championship, you nailed a game-tying 3 with 11 seconds left to send the game into overtime, tied 28-28. A game your team went on to win 33-30. A game in which you and your teammates trailed 15-1 in the second quarter. A game against bigger, faster, but less team-oriented players. All the practice, all the work, all the coaching paid off in that one moment when you were most needed.
Now you're in club-league play. You play the game better and smarter than I ever thought possible at your age. I'm so proud of you. And even though I get on your case sometimes, even though I push you to be better all around - school and basketball and as a person - you always come through.
I'm proud of you son. You've proven to be one of the strong ones.
Life is long and hard and full of challenges, but I'm sure you will continue to rise up to them. You will get knocked down, you will fail, you will not get 1st place all the time. But you won't quit. You'll keep going, through the pain, the agony, the desperation. That is the legacy of your family, and one you will carry on, as my son, a brother, cousin, friend, and someday maybe a husband and father yourself.
Stand tall son. You're one of the strong ones.
-Dad
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