BAND or BASKETS
Busy schedules conflict sometimes, and tough decisions need to be made.
Sometimes, they aren’t even that tough… but they feel tough.
My sons’ high school team was playing in the State Championship and one of my son’s had an adjudication for his band at the same time.
Despite best efforts, the band commitment could not be changed, so the decision was…
Go support the school at the Basketball State Championship game (which he was very excited to do),
OR
Honor his commitment to the band and keep his grade higher.
After a conversation with mom and dad, he decided to go to the band adjudication at 2:45 pm, and try to leave immediately after to get to the game before it finished. The championship game and adjudication both started at about 3:00 and the concert was about 30 miles away. Not ideal.
I don’t think my son felt great about his choice, but he knew it was the right one.
I decided to be the one to miss the game and try to be the one that would drive him to the game. I chose this for two reasons; First, mom is a big basketball fan, and I knew she really wanted to be there, and two, I thought I had a slightly better chance of getting him to the game as I drive a little faster and crazier than mom.
I was sad to miss the game. I was sad for my son having to make a tough decision. Though I realize that the fact that this was a “hard” decision, speaks to the fact that we have a pretty lavish existence. It was what it was, at my young age of 47, I am still working on not “wishing” things were different than they are, and our high school had never won a State Championship in basketball before.
So, at 2:45 pm I am sitting at a local high school watching some other’s school band playing.
They were running late, as is often the case in these adjudications.
The music sounded great, and I was breathing calmly accepting that the clock was simply not working in our favor.
The first piece this unknown high school played was like 12 minutes long… OUCH.
Fortunately they played two instead of three pieces, and they start departing the stage at 3:01 pm. The basketball game is starting… and my son’s band slowly takes the stage.
They play their pieces. My son looks at me and rolls his eyes. I am proud of him. I know he is wired as I am, and he is eager to hit the road.
I parked in the deserted parking lot on the far side of the building. Arguably illegally.
I seriously considered asking the band teacher how many points he would deduct if I take my son right after the band plays. But, I decide that is inappropriate and would teach my son the wrong priorities. So, I sat back and relaxed.
The band is done at 3:20 pm. First quarter is over, score is 9 to 9. And, the band goes to the “sight reading” part of the competition.
I feel like an expecting father in the waiting room, with a baby being born.
I have the signed slip that I made up, by borrowing a piece of paper from the janitors’ closet in hand, and am waiting for the music to stop behind the doors.
It was 3:38 pm. The door remained closed. No signs of any doctors… Nor new born babies crying ;-)
Oh that’s right. I am not at the hospital.
Out of a far door, unexpectedly, the band starts rolling out.
It’s halftime at the game. Odds aren’t good – but at least we are onto phase II of operation “don’t get in an accident or arrested on the way to the game”.
I see my son and we start to sprint. His saxophone is in his hand like an olympian’s relay baton.
Fortunately, the band room is on the way toward the far end of the building were my car is parked (every second counts.)
We are the first ones on the road. A few other students are going to try to make it.
For some reason, I no longer care if we make it or not. I am with my son. We are laughing, running, and just happy to be done with the music component for the moment.
We get in the car – and while he starts to change out of his suit, I start cruising down the road.
We are having fun… but we know the clock is ticking.
Traffic was light, and cops were not perched on the side of the road. Texts occasionally are coming across with scores. Game is very close. Third quarter just ended.
On 95 South, traffic starts to slow… OUCH.
I make a last moment decision to ditch the highway and take some local roads as we get close.
Every red light, I am kicking myself for having gotten of the highway.
I keep bouncing between wishing I had stayed on 95 and glad I took the exit. In the heat of the moment, sometimes I forget that turning back time is not really an option.
You make the best decisions that you can with the data you’ve got, and there is no turning back.
My son is level headed. “Don’t get in an accident or get a ticket, Dad.” I love that as much as he wants to make the game, he is still concerned about our well being.
We finally make the turn on Route 1. Only 2 miles away. Clocks are ticking. Less than 4 minutes left in the game.
I make the left onto the University of Maryland.
It’s a HUGE campus.
We find the parking lot and park abruptly. There are probably 3 minutes left in the game or so… I believe.
Unfortunately, I park in a remote lot that is not connected to the bigger lot. That means we have a good quarter mile sprint to the ticket counter.
I am deciding between a full out sprint and a heart attack as I am working to keep up with my young and athletic younger partner.
We make it to the ticket counter, huffing and puffing. Grab our tickets and walk briskly into the arena.
1 minute and 30 seconds left. We are up by 9!
We separate. I find the family. My son finds his friends.
There are a few exciting blocks and dunks. Our high school is in full control of the game.
The seniors leave the court… and the crowd goes wild.
We made it! I know that we will likely never forget our day of Bands and Baskets! I realize that being there for the celebration was worthwhile. We shared in the celebration. We congratulated the many kids we saw growing up – playing together. We celebrated with the proud parents. We missed the exciting drama of the game, but we made our own exciting and memorable drama.
At the end. I am kind of glad it worked out exactly as it did.
I realize that as much as I wanted to be at the game, I wouldn’t have missed being with my son for the world.
We shared the disappointment of missing the beginning of the game.
We shared the frustration of the late starting concert and the never ending sight reading.
We shared the excitement of the drive, and the breathlessness of the sprint.
We shared in the celebration with the team and the parents and the students…
And, deep down inside… I was thrilled… a little bit for our basketball team. But, even more so for how close I feel to my son, for how happy I always am to share our moments, and for having this new memory that I am sure we will remember for a lifetime.
It was just one more game and one more concert and one more car ride….
It was an unforgettable afternoon with my son... Love spending time with him for any reason.
And, it was the right decision, even if it wasn’t the easy one.
Band over basketball.
For him.
And, for me!
Yours in fast paced harmony,
Nestor