Dear Cash,
We have this video of you jumping up and down, shouting, “Daddy — It’s four-block! C’mon! It’s time for basketball!” At just three years old, donning the cutest little afro, you lived for this daily ritual before things like baseball, Taekwondo and Nintendo took front and center. Over the years you’d still go with Daddy and Grey to shoot hoops on the weekends, but it was more about getting some fresh air and exercise. At times, you had to be cajoled, bribed, nearly dragged to the court. But these days, instead, we hear the incessant question: Hey Dad, when are we going to go practice?
Peers become more influential as you enter adolescence, so it’s not surprising Daddy’s efforts to convince you of your god-given talent fell on deaf ears for so long. It would be the admiration of your friends at school that would create an about-face. Last fall you started coming home from school, talking about how you were “killing it” in football and basketball, and how classmates were beginning to take notice. “Cash, you’re really good at basketball,” a friend, who has played sports passionately for years, said. “I want us to always be on the same team!” As you described a “shake-and-bake'“ on the court, a crucial interception or winning three-point shot, it became clear you were discovering and relishing the spotlight. Spending more time with the athletes in your class, strategizing about your next game, you were gradually becoming what the streets refer to as a “hot dog”. But, in truth, you were becoming like Daddy.
You didn’t always seem interested in Dad’s coaching, but nowadays you devour every correction and every drill, even as he did away with your penchant for the flashy. “First things first Cash — we’re going to develop your skills by mastering the basics.” He’ll have you run back and forth retrieving his shots, even before you start practicing, “because the key is being able to make shots even when you’re tired.” One morning he had you do a hundred layups with one hand in your pocket, then had you switch and do the same on the other side. And no, it wasn’t a hundred attempts, it was a hundred swooshes, when a passerby yelled out, “Now that’s what I’m talkin about! Thas’ how you do it! I used to practice with one hand in my pocket too back in the day! You goin’ to the NBA kid if your Dad coaches like that!”
You’re quick to point out that, like you, Daddy didn’t start playing basketball until he was eleven and still ended up getting a full scholarship to a Division 1 college. “Had Uncle Corey not passed away, Daddy was on his way to the NBA, Mom.” Playing in tournaments all over the city, earning the nickname “Half Court” for his Larry Bird-like jump shot, Daddy was a regional phenom. Two years in the EuroLeague was the culmination of his professional basketball career, but his greatest hope was that one day he’d have sons to teach the game. On the verge of tears, he would tell me later that watching the NCAA Men’s championship game with you and Grey, cheering on St. Peter’s — a team coached by Daddy’s childhood friend, Shaheen Holloway — was one of the greatest nights of his life. “There was a moment I had to stop, look around and take it all in. It was incredible to be watching such an important game with my sons.”
Jermaine recently asked if you would consider joining MCS’s JV basketball team. Not surprisingly Cash, you paused, stuttered and said, “Uh…um…I don’t know.” You want to dominate first before joining the team. As you’d tell me later, there’s some kid named Gadeebo on the team who is nasty with his handle, “so I want to practice with Daddy this spring and summer and then I’ll join next season.” I don’t quite get this philosophy and neither does Gail who tried to convince you to join this season — but still, you remain steadfast in your timeline. At least you’ve signed up for three weeks of basketball camp this summer, one of which is led by the Brooklyn Nets, which will no doubt level up your game.
Lately you want to hear all about Daddy’s basketball achievements, and have a genuine interest in not only learning the game, but learning the game from him. “Basketball is bringing me and Daddy closer Mom. It’s our bonding.” This admiration was on showcase recently when Victor’s Mom asked about having Daddy coach Victor. “No way!” you said, “Even though Victor is my friend, I’m not sharing Daddy!” I laughed at your brutal honesty, but your words warmed my heart so much.
While we were in Chicago earlier this month, Pow Pow had the opportunity to watch you practice from his courtside seat. “You know Cash,” he said afterwards, “you’ve got the greatest coach in the world in your Dad.” But what has Daddy always said is most important Cash? Heart. Having heart matters most and there’s no question — you have that now.
I love you Cash!
Always and forever,
Mom