What it Means to Win

This week my son went to Marquette University's basketball camp. The last day of camp they hold a tournament and have a bunch of different skills contests. Among over 200 campers, my son made it into the finals of the slam dunk contest. This meant that he would have to come up with two different dunks to do in front of the entire camp and all the families that come to watch in the Al McGuire Center on campus.

We were all so excited for him and we talked about it at dinner and again after showers. He worked out his first dunk with his dad. He had come up with a really creative routine and felt good about it. When it came time to go to bed, he didn't have a second dunk figured out so he had a hard time falling asleep. We decided when he got up in the morning he would go on the internet and do some research on his second dunk and that seemed to ease his mind so he could finally go to bed.

Successfully (by 6 a.m. I might add) he had figured out what he was going to do. As we were getting ready to leave a little later that morning, he told me that he wasn't feeling so good. We decided it was nerves and as soon as he got to camp and started playing again, it would help to settle him down.

So it came time for the dunk contest. I was there along with my daughter, my husband, my husband's parents, and a slew of other families who came to watch their children at camp. When it was my son's turn I was so nervous for him. He got up, put his mesh jersey over his face, had his coach turn him around in a circle over and over, he acted as if he was dizzy and weaved over to the group of youngest campers, regained his composure, high-fived a little guy, and then proceeded to do his dunk (shirt still over his face), and the ball went in! Everyone cheered and the judges gave him all 10's. I was proud and relieved.

In the end, it came down to a dunk-off between my son and another boy. He had to come up with a third dunk on the fly. Unfortunately, my son did not have the higher score.

The next morning my mother-in-law called me. They were still talking about their grandson, his crazy dunk, and how impressed they were with how well the camp was run. She asked me if he was disappointed he didn't win. In all honesty, I'm sure he was at first. Who doesn't want to win? But I think he got over it pretty quickly and when it was all said and done, he may have been just as relieved that it was finally over.

I think that my son has played sports enough to know that you win some and you lose some. He just really wants to play. It's what he loves to do. And in the end he knows that there's always another game.

So did my son get to play in the consolation game? No. Did he get to play in the championship game? No. Did he win any trophies or awards? No. Did my son go into the last day of camp and, despite his nerves, get up in front of a large crowd and do something a bit out of his comfort zone? Yes. Did he have fun and do a great job? Yes. Did he make his family proud? Yes. Will he go to camp again next year...you bet.