Saturdays come fast in my house, and start with the same commitment of not missing my son’s basketball games, and I don’t plan to.
There’s a quiet rhythm to our game day mornings now. His uniform is always laid out the night before. Water bottle filled with snacks, packed in a bag that we’ve unofficially named the tournament tote.
It’s a routine, but it never feels like it. Not when you know what it means.
My son plays basketball, and when I say plays, I mean he lives and breathes it.
He’s not just on the team; he’s in his element on the court.
Confident. Focused. Determined. He becomes a version of himself that lights up the whole gym.
And, I’m always right there for it, cheering like I’m the team’s personal hype woman, filming every good play and shouting from the sidelines, even though I have no idea what the plays are actually called.
I just know the fire in his eyes and how much it matters to have someone in the stands, every single time.
No, I’m Not Living Through Him, Just Standing Beside Him
I’m not here to push or pressure or turn his passion into something it’s not.
I’m here because he loves it. And I love him.
I’m here so that when he looks up, either win or lose, points or no points, he sees me. Proud. Present.
I’ve watched him miss free throws and make buzzer-beaters. I’ve seen him frustrated and fired up, exhausted and euphoric.
Through it all, I just want him to know that someone is in his corner as he gives it his all and is out there being brave. And that’s always worth showing up for.
More Than Just a Game
Sometimes I get emotional watching him. Not because of how well he plays (although he’s pretty darn good), but because I see the bigger picture. I see how far we’ve come. I see how much effort it takes just to give him the space to do what he loves. To be a kid. To grow into his own.
Basketball is his thing. And I take it seriously.
Because I know not every kid gets that kind of support. Not every child has a face they can count on seeing in the crowd.
If I can be that constant support in his world that gives him a safety net, I will. Every chance I get.
A Legacy of Presence
Someday, life will get louder. Busier. Messier.
He’ll have jobs, relationships, dreams, disappointments. He’ll move through seasons where the world won’t always clap for him, where he’ll have to fight to remember who he is.
When that time comes, I hope he remembers this: His mom never missed a game.
And that he was never alone out there.
Hopefully, that memory will be enough to anchor him. To remind him that he’s always had someone in his corner. That he always will.
If That’s All I Ever Get Credit For…
If that’s all I’m remembered for. Being there, I’m okay with that.
Because for me, it’s not just about basketball. It’s about love and presence.
It’s about making sure that in a world where so many things are uncertain, he knows I’m not one of them.
What About You?
Do you have a “thing” you never miss for your child? What does showing up look like in your family?
Share yours in the forum; this is a safe space,