Errors of our ways require us to rebound

If it had been a movie, the film would have gone into slow motion just as the players, all of whom were 11- and 12-year-old girls, ran down the court.

And the camera would have caught – frame by frame – the action just as one little girl grabbed the ball and, leaping, threw it straight into the net.

Of course, the camera would have also caught the cries of the parents in the stands and the teammates on the bench, and the little girl’s disbelieving expression when she realized she’d just scored for the opposite team.

In the excitement and confusion she’d thrown the ball into the wrong net.

If it had all been just pretend, just a scene from a movie, it wouldn’t really have mattered to anyone. Especially the little girl.

But, unfortunately, it was real. And it mattered a lot.

After the game, the drive home was very quiet, punctuated only by soft sniffing sounds coming from the back seat. Nothing made any difference; not the offer of ice cream or my silly banter, or any of the other tactics I used hoping to take her mind off her troubles. Abject misery was buckled into that car with us and along for the ride.

We got home and she cheered up – a little. I hurried off to a reading group and she did her homework and took a bath. I got home in time to tuck her into bed and we talked for a bit before I turned out the light.

“I wish it hadn’t happened,” she said.

“I know,” I answered, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I know how you feel.”

And it was the truth.

I don’t know how it feels to sink a basket and cost your team the game. I’ve never played a game of basketball in my life. When I was her age, my only sports were reading in bad light and trying to make myself invisible so the teacher wouldn’t call on me. If blushing furiously had been a team sport, I would have been captain.

But, oh, I do know how it feels to put everything you’ve got into a bad throw. I’ve done that more times than I care to remember.

I know exactly how it feels to let yourself – and worse, other people – down; to think you’re heading in the right direction, with a sure thing ahead of you, only to realize you’ve made a big mistake.

And you can’t stop the momentum. There’s nothing you can do to take it back.

It hurts. That’s how it feels. It hurts.

By the next morning, the worst was over. Her embarrassment was fading.

She went to school prepared for a little teasing and some whispering, but she was through crying.

Watching her as she got out of the car and walked over to where her friends were standing, I realized she was where we all end up at one time or another.

In the real world, when you get it wrong, sometimes the only thing you can do is what she did: You turn around and run back to where you started.

You dry your eyes. You get right back into the game and play with all your heart.