Watching Isn't Playing
I had made it to eighth grade. My basketball career grew in spite of my culture shock from our transition from Costa Rica to San Antonio, Texas, about two years earlier.
My saving grace was the teachers, parents, and friends I made at Covenant School of San Antonio. I don't remember playing basketball before moving to Texas, but I did well even with starting late.
Imagine my astonishment when my little Christian school played a game against another little Christian school at a notable location one afternoon. It was around 1985, but I remember it as if it was last week.
We walked toward the court in the middle of HemisFair Arena, the home of the NBA's San Antonio Spurs! I stood slack-jawed, staring at the banners hanging from the rafters, the section after section of orange, pink, and teal stadium seating, and the beautiful hardwood basketball court in the center of it all. The clear backboards with miles of space behind them made the baskets seem extra reachable. The bouncing balls echoed so differently from our small school gym. Was this real or a dream?!
I don't even remember if I scored or how much of the game I played that afternoon, but what is indelibly in my mind is this: we got to stay and watch the Spurs play that night.
With average players like Artis Gilmore, Frank Brickowski, and Alvin Robertson, and a losing record of 35-47 that year, these pre-David Robinson, Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobili Spurs were downright terrible.
It didn't matter. I was hooked!
For years, we would attend Spurs games and collect plastic cups afterward until we had enough to use for drinks at cookouts of a hundred friends. I continued playing in school, even coming back from a torn ACL the day before I turned seventeen. (During my recovery, I picked up a guitar, and the rest is history.) As a father, I even took some of my kids to a game against the Sixers - and cheered daringly for a visiting team in Philly!
Still, nothing beats playing in a game - in school, a little pickup game of 3-on-3, PIG, 21, or even just shooting baskets solo. It's a great experience and good for the body too.
I tell you all this because if you've been watching church on TV, it's time to show up in person. Feel the thrill of being "on the court" together again.
And if it seems that this is a year late, you'd be surprised who has settled for just watching church.
-Dave Helmuth
(purchase my book, "Worship Fertilizer: (the first hundred)" HERE)
Watching Isn’t Playing (Nº 320)
