Reflections of a 5th-Grade Girls Basketball Coach. Charlie Duncheon

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Reflections of a 5th-Grade Girls Basketball Coach - Charlie Duncheon

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white trim, and Sacred Heart written in white across the front of their jerseys. When Carson sees Betsy open, she picks up her dribble and makes a bounce pass to her.

      That leads to Jordan, Carson, and Betsy’s twin brunette sister Meagan yelling, “Betsy!” or, “Betsy, I’m open!”

      “Look up! Pass!” yells the St. Mary’s volunteer coach, who is also Carson’s father.

      It is a relatively small gymnasium. The engineers and their guests peer further through the doors; one of the baskets and the baseline reside a mere twelve feet from their position at the doors. They see both teams lined up in a single row of chairs on the right side of the gym narrowly separated by the scorer’s bench, run by the St. Mary’s athletic director and his son. The feet from both team’s benchwarmers rest a mere twelve inches from the out-of-bounds line. Another single row of fold-up seats is on the left side of the gym, mostly fans from the visiting Sacred Heart team from nearby Saratoga. Like the player benches, they’re also lined up with twelve inches separating their feet from the out-of-bounds line. More hometown fans are sitting on the stage opposite the entrance doors. The curtains are pulled and some parents sit on the edge of the stage under the far basket. There is a single row of chairs seating additional parents and relatives of the home St. Mary’s team behind those hanging their legs off the edge of the stage. Younger brothers and sisters wearing St. Mary’s school uniforms of white shirts, blue pants or pleated plaid skirts play dodge ball on the back section of the stage, most of them not as interested in their siblings’ game as their parents. Any available space to see the game is taken.

      “Stop ball!” yells the Sacred Heart coach. It’s a spirited and close game between host St. Mary’s Cougars and the Sacred Heart Mustangs. But the absolute beauty of the scene at Howley Hall is that while the squeaks of shoes are fewer and less intense than the whistles, the rules and actions are mostly the same as those of the best in the world playing at the same time in Atlanta, or for that matter earlier in the day in Sudan. You can’t dribble again if you pick up the ball. You can only stand in the three-second lane for three seconds. A field goal is two points, a free throw one. Every player on the floor plays offense and defense. If everybody is hustling, then all ten players are involved in every single offensive and defensive play. Even those on the bench contribute with warnings about a defensive move, or a “back door” move by a forward on offense. The team that plays as a team and does not try to go “one on five” has a better chance of winning. You get two free throws if a defender fouls you while shooting, etc. And the fans, mostly family, sitting on the stage or on folding chairs in Howley Hall are every bit as vocal and excited as thousands of Hawks fans in Atlanta.

      That’s what makes basketball such a beautiful game. While the skill level changes dramatically from fifth-grade girls playing at Howley Hall to that of the Atlanta Hawks and the Miami Heat, the challenge remains the same. How do we put that leather ball through the metal hoop more times than our opponents? And if the many other volunteer youth basketball coaches do their job effectively, like Carson’s dad, grade school girls can receive equal or even more emotional rewards than those professionals playing in Atlanta.

       The four British “outsiders” leave the doorway, intrigued by what they saw on the floor at Howley Hall. With a peck on the cheek, the new bride tells Alasdair that if they get citizenship they should consider St. Mary’s when they have children. They could spend beautiful Friday nights watching their children playing that game that makes squeaks on the floor, that draws whistles from the guys in the striped shirts and smiles and cheering from those in attendance.

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