I realized on the way to my twin girls’ very first basketball game this fall that I was clutch-the-steering-wheel-as-your-knuckles-turn-white nervous. Never mind that they’re only in fourth grade or that I, myself, am about as athletically inclined as a napkin (though come to think of it, perhaps that’s why I was so nervous). What if they messed up? What if they had no idea what they were doing? Or worse yet, what if they looked like I did the only year I played basketball, my senior year, when I humbly kept the junior varsity bench warm?
This sort of anxiousness was new to me, and completely unexpected. After all, I didn’t get too nervous at their first piano or dance recitals. I simply felt calm and excited to see what they could do. So why was I feeling sick to my stomach over a grade-school basketball game?
Maybe it was because sports are such a big part of life where we live. In a rural area, athletics are often the only things that keep kids out of trouble. Sporting events rank more highly than church or weekend free time to many. Because of all the small schools, most kids play sports of one kind or another, whether or not they actually have talent.
As I slid into the gym with my two sons, I mumbled something of my anxiety to my friend, a seasoned pro in school sports. “Oh, it’ll be fine. Basically, watching fourth grade basketball is like watching a bunch of clowns play,” she told me. The refs are easier on them at this age too, she said, so the kids would have room to learn.
To my surprise, once the girls were out there, I wasn’t nearly as uneasy. All the players were uncoordinated, timid, unsure of themselves. Andie was the first of my two to play and she reminded me of myself on the court – she seemed more prone to making sure her hair was in place than in rebounding the ball, let alone actually guarding her girl. Her dad kept yelling, “Andie, where’s your man?” to which she would stop and look up at him, confused, as a herd of girls ran past her.
In normal life, Andie is quite aggressive and bossy. She loves to be in charge and to take on as much responsibility as I’ll let her. To see her on the basketball court was a lot like watching another person, or at least someone with a different personality. When she first went out, she looked absolutely petrified, a reincarnation of my feelings the few times I was sent into the last minutes of a game. She hung back, clearly afraid and not sure what to do. When she was open for a pass, she’d reluctantly yell to the girl with the ball, but I could tell she was hoping the ball wouldn’t be passed to her.
I was shocked to see that her easygoing, gentle twin sister, Rachel, was a dynamic player. She guarded her girl fiercely, not letting her get anywhere near the ball, even though Rachel herself was a few inches shorter. A tiny little thing, Rachel was the only girl among her teammates on the floor who tried to rebound the ball. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t quite reach it. “She needs to grow about four inches,” her dad muttered to me. Even more to my astonishment, as point guard, Rachel dribbled the ball down the court masterfully, rarely looking down at it, as most of the girls did. Since she has inherited my coordination, or more appropriately, the lack thereof, I couldn’t believe how effortlessly she handled the ball.
Rachel played aggressively, toothpick legs pounding down the court, sticking to her girl like a bad wedgie, and pushing herself into the midst of the chaos in a desperate attempt to get the ball. I shook my head in wonder. “I can’t believe it,” I whispered, hopefully not loud enough for the video camera their dad had been using to pick up.
I wonder why different personality traits manifest themselves in sports or other activities. What is it about basketball that brings out Rachel’s fierceness and tenacity, her drive to work hard? Why does being out on the court make Andie nervous and timid?
Both girls used to take piano lessons, but Rachel never liked it much. Getting her to practice was like trying to ice skate on your heels. She finally gave it up because it was “too hard.” On the opposite side of the spectrum is Andie, who often has to be asked to stop practicing because it’s driving us crazy. She works hard at piano and is eager to learn new concepts.
The drive could be purely interest. Or perhaps it’s talent. Or maybe it’s just a mixture of both. Whatever it is, it’s sure fun to gather new insight into their personalities through their activities.
