February 10, 2019 – Pleasant Grove, Utah, USA
Twelve-year-old Jacob Christensen pushed his way through the church hallway after Sunday meetings. He was almost out the glass door of the entryway when Bishop Wirthlin called his name.
“I hear you’re pretty good at basketball,” Bishop Wirthlin said to Jacob. “How would you like to be in charge of the ward’s team for the eleven and twelve-year-old boys?”
“I’m not all that good,” replied Jacob.
“Well, you’re probably the best we’ve got. How about teaching the other boys a little bit? Let’s see, we’ve got you, Derrick, Chase, Alejandro, Zax, Conner . . .”
“And Seb.”
“Oh yeah, and Seb.”
“Don’t we need one of the adults as a coach?”
“Nah. You can be a player and the coach. The most important thing is getting all the boys to the games.”
Jacob did not think he could say no, so he replied, “I guess so, if you really want me to.”
“Great! Maybe get together for a practice before your first game.”
When Jacob found his mom, he told her all about what Bishop Wirthlin asked him. She nodded like she was impressed.
“I don’t think I can do it,” said Jacob. “I’m not that good of a player and now he wants me to be a coach too.”
“It’ll be fun. No one cares if you’re very good. It’s mostly about getting together and learning teamwork,” said his mom.
“But a lot of the guys don’t know anything about basketball. I’ll bet Alejandro and Zax have never even held a basketball.”
“All you have to do is show them a few things. No one expects you to be NBA players.”
Three of the six boys on Jacob’s contact list had their own phones and he texted them directly about a weekend practice. For the other three, Jacob texted and called their parents. On Saturday morning, Jacob brought his own basketball to the church building and Bishop Wirthlin showed up to unlock the door so the boys could get to the gym inside. Everyone Jacob contacted made it, although Alejandro wore jeans and Zax had on long pants more appropriate for a church meeting than a basketball practice.
“So, Bishop Wirthlin wants me to be the coach,” Jacob announced to the group. “I guess that means I can decide who plays in the games and what position you should be. How many of you can make a free throw?”
Four hands went up, including Derrick’s. “Do you mean all the time or after lots of tries?” Derrick asked. “Because I need lots of tries.”
Jacob remembered some of his first practices when he played for his middle-school team. Their coach began with everyone attempting baskets from different spots. Jacob though that was a pretty good way to start with his team.
“Okay, let’s each take a turn shooting from different places,” he called out. “Then we can kind of see what we have to work with.”
All seven boys tried shots from close to the basket, and then farther and farther out until they reached the three-point line. Three of the boys were almost helpless, no matter how close they were. Even underhanded, Zax could barely hit the backboard. Jacob made some obvious conclusions.
“Okay, Zax, Alejandro, and Seb are going to be our defensive specialists. Your job is always to block shots and steal the ball. Then you pass it to the offensive specialists. They’ll make the baskets.”
After shooting, Jacob introduced Alejandro and Zax to dribbling and let them jog around the court bouncing the ball. Then they all practiced passing and guarding and getting into other people’s way.
“How did it go yesterday?” Bishop Wirthlin asked Jacob the next day.
“I don’t think we’ll be very good,” Jacob answered honestly.
“The most important thing is having fun,” replied Bishop Wirthlin. “Win if you can, but just get everyone to show up. Your first game is Wednesday night in this building.”
Jacob texted and called all the members of his team like he had for the first practice. On Wednesday, five people, including Jacob, showed up. They were missing two of their best shooters.
“Remember, when you get the ball, pass it to Derrick or me to make the shot,” Jacob reminded the other players.
The team they were playing, Pleasant Grove 14th Ward, had boys who were at least a head taller than Jacob. A third of the way into the game, they realized that only Derrick and Jacob were taking shots at the hoop. After that, whenever Jacob had the ball, at least two of the 14th Ward players surrounded him.
Based on the other team’s height and experience advantage, the game was remarkably close. The final score was 40 to 20 and Jacob tried not to look too disappointed while congratulating the other players. On his way off the court, he was stopped by one of the adults who kept score.
“Who’s your team coach, son?” asked the scorer.
“I guess I am.”
“Oh yeah? Then congrats on your first win.”
“But we lost. Forty to twenty.”
“The other team had to forfeit. They didn’t have enough players your age who showed up. They were playing with a couple of fourteen-year-olds. We let the game go on for the heck of it, but officially, you won.”
Jacob was not sure whether to be proud of the team or not. When he told Bishop Wirthlin the result, Bishop Wirthlin had no problem feeling happy about the win.
“See, I told you the most important thing was showing up and having fun. Consistency counts in these games.”
“How many more do we have to play?”
“All the other wards in the stake. Eight more games. Maybe you’ll even be stake champions.”
The next game was on a Saturday morning at a different church building. Jacob called and texted reminders to his teammates and then found a second parent, in addition to his mom, who was willing to drive to the new building. A different collection of five players arrived at the game to face a team of twelve boys from Pleasant Grove 3rd Ward.
The 3rd Ward team had an adult coach who insisted that all his players should get the same amount of playing time. Some of his players were as bad as Zax and Alejandro at shooting and dribbling, so the game stayed close until the very end. Jacob made the winning shot to put his team ahead, 38 to 36.
For the next four weeks, Jacob’s team played another seven games against all the wards that made up the Pleasant Grove South Stake. They had five eligible players at every game, even though they cut it very close a couple of times, with some of their players showing up with less than a minute to spare. Their final record was seven wins and two losses. Five of the wins were by forfeit.
Although the final results did not count, Jacob’s team ended up playing all the forfeited games against makeshift teams from the other wards. It made for good practice and Jacob was sure his team was getting better. Zax and Alejandro could actually hit the rim sometimes when throwing up a shot.
When the nine-game season was over, Bishop Wirthlin called a special meeting with the team. “Someone told me the final results and you have the best record in the entire stake,” Bishop Wirthin announced excitedly. “That means you get to play in the regional tournament. Your first game is against the winner from the Pleasant Grove North Stake.”
“Do we have to play?” asked Alejandro.
Bishop Wirthlin laughed. “No, you don’t have to play. But you should want to play. You won. You get to represent our stake. Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Alejandro with a shrug. “Is there a prize or something?”
“How about this? If you win your next game, I’ll take you all out for pizza and ice cream.”
The boys sitting around Jacob agreed they would definitely like the pizza and ice cream.
“I have something special for Jacob right now,” continued Bishop Wirthlin. “He’s been your coach and a player this whole time. He’s been the one reminding you about the games and making sure you all get to play. So, I got him this.”
Bishop Wirthlin pulled a small, silver wolf statue from the bag he was holding. “Every pack of wolves has a leader who watches over them and makes sure no one is left behind. I want Jacob to have this little wolf as a symbol of how he taught you and included you, whether you knew how to play basketball or not.”
Jacob happily accepted the wolf statue. When he got home, he put it next to his lamp on his nightstand. He loved how the grooves in the metal looked like fur and how the wolf was muscular and strong. That was how the bishop thought of him.
A week later, when Jacob’s team showed up for the tournament, all seven boys were there, along with at least one of their parents. Their competitors from Pleasant Grove North were already warming up. More than a dozen of them were practicing three-point shots and wearing jerseys from the leagues where they normally played. A couple of kids had to be over six feet tall.
Jacob walked over to the scorekeeper’s table and found someone who looked to be in charge. “My team’s supposed to be playing kids thirteen and under,” said Jacob. “Are those guys all thirteen and under?”
“As far as I know,” said the scorekeeper.
When it was time to start, the five tallest players for the other team walked out on the court. Jacob figured his team needed to start with their best lineup, so he had Zax and Alejandro sit out. It did not help. The game was a blowout from the opening whistle. The Pleasant Grove North kids took most of their shots from the three-point line and kept blocking or stealing the ball from Jacob’s team. Jacob called timeout.
“We don’t have a chance against these guys,” Derrick said to Jacob as the team huddled up.
“I know. Let’s not worry about it too much,” said Jacob between deep breaths. “Just do your best and hold the ball for as long as you can before taking a shot. Then they can’t run up the score too bad. We’ll all take turns playing.”
Jacob continued to substitute players, while Pleasant Grove North stuck with their best five. Their taller players blocked and screened and acted like the game was close. At halftime, the score was 41 to 13.
The other team did not relax in the second half until they were up by 50 points. Then they made their first substitution. A player named Mikey came in to replace one of the tall guys. Jacob had not noticed Mikey sitting on the sidelines and only realized that Mikey had Down’s Syndrome when he stood very close.
Pleasant Grove North stole the ball and ran down to their basket. Mikey stopped near the free throw line with two of the taller players next to him and the other two under the basket. Someone handed Mikey the ball. He made a shot toward the basket, which fell way short. One of his teammates rebounded the ball and passed it back to Mikey.
Mikey shot and missed again. His teammates muscled the ball away from Derrick and handed it to Mikey. Miss. Rebound. Back to Mikey.
No matter where Jacob and his teammates stood, they could not get the ball back. Pleasant Grove North was determined that Mikey make a basket. Since they appeared powerless to stop them, the rest of Jacob’s team stopped trying. They simply stood there and let Pleasant Grove North pass the ball around.
As Jacob watched, he grew more frustrated. The other team was rubbing it in that they could do anything they wanted. It was humiliating. Jacob had thought his team had gotten better, but this proved they were still horrible. The only way they had made it to regionals was through forfeits.
The tall Pleasant Grove North players began showing off by dribbling through their legs before handing the ball to Mikey. Jacob could not stand it anymore. When someone made a bounce pass to Mikey, Jacob leaped to grab it. When he missed and fell to the floor, the Pleasant Grove North boys laughed.
Jacob jumped to his feet. As Mikey put his hands up to attempt another shot, Jacob flung out an arm and swatted at the ball. WHACK! Jacob made contact and the ball flew across the court and out of bounds
Dead silence fell over the gym. Players looked back and forth between Mikey and Jacob. A spectator on the sidelines booed. Then another and another.
Someone called out, “Show some sportsmanship! Let the poor kid play!”
Jacob’s face turned red hot. He felt like he was standing naked on the court as the boos continued. He dropped his head and ran from the gym and then from the building. He did not stop until he was in front of his mom’s minivan. The door was unlocked so he climbed inside and slammed the door shut.
Jacob dropped to the floor below the backseat so no one could see him. He wiped at the tears streaming down his burning cheeks. He thought of the silver wolf next to his bed. As soon as Bishop Wirthlin heard about the ball slap, he would surely ask for the wolf back.
Jacob lost track of time as he laid there feeling miserable for himself. Suddenly, the minivan door sprung open. His mom stood outside. Next to her was Mikey and two adults who had to be his parents. Mikey held a small basketball and smiled broadly. He gestured to his dad and used words Jacob could barely understand.
“Mikey wanted to come and meet you,” Mikey’s dad said to Jacob. “He was worried that you felt bad about what happened.”
Jacob tried wiping his wet face again to hide his crying.
“Mikey says you shouldn’t feel bad,” continued Mikey’s dad. “He wants people to treat him like a real player. He says he wishes he was on your team. He likes how you let everyone play and not just at the end.”
“Thanks,” said Jacob, looking shyly at Mikey.
“He wants you to have his Utah Jazz basketball. He got it at one of their games.”
“No, I can’t take his ball.”
“He wants you to have it. He can be very stubborn about things like this. He won’t take no for answer.”
Mikey held out the ball eagerly and Jacob accepted it with a lump in his throat. “Thanks a lot,” he said to Mikey. “I know exactly where I’ll keep it.”
The ball was given a permanent home right next to Jacob’s bed. It sat near the silver wolf, which Bishop Wirthlin did not want back after all.
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