Flash

Persistence

During my Victoria Day walking expedition to Queen Alexandra Park, I rested my weary bones on a bench and watched an energetic little boy, perhaps five years old, attempt a feat worthy of the Harlem Globetrotters.

He was standing about three feet beyond the foul line, with his back to the basket, throwing a basketball back over his head. The trajectory of the ball was woefully short of reaching the hoop. After each attempt, he would turn around, and his father would bounce the ball back to him, occasionally offering friendly comments such as "You have to use your whole body" and "Maybe you should move in a little closer." I was really impressed by this helpful feedback because it was not accompanied with any kind of pressure to do it Dad's way.

Eventually, the kid slowed down a bit, and decided that moving closer might be a good idea. He stationed himself a foot or two inside the foul line and tried again. And again. And again.

Finally, his Dad suggested that he might be more successful if he turned around and faced the net. The kid said he wanted to do it his way. Dad said, "I can't even do that."

This statement galvanized the boy to heroic efforts. He used his whole body and every ounce of energy he had. The ball hit the backboard. Several tries later, he sank the basket.

I couldn't help cheering and applauding. Mom took a picture of the triumphant athlete, and five older girls appeared, wanting a turn. They faced the basket and did not use their whole body. It was some time before one of them managed to score.

Meanwhile, the little guy got a bit of rest, basking in his achievement. Eventually, he had more opportunities to duplicate his feat. He didn't score again, but the ball was consistently hitting the backboard. He had made astonishing progress in just a few minutes, simply because he refused to believe that he couldn't accomplish what he set out to do.

If he can maintain that attitude, that kid as a bright future.