The Stars at Night Are Big and Bright

I'm headed to God's country for the weekend.

Jackson is starting up his new basketball league and has a game in San Marcos this afternoon.

Since he's five, the league is a little more liberal with rules violations. Since it's more about having fun and learning the game than winning, certain technicalities such as double dribbling and out-of-bounds are left to the wayside. Additionally, each player is given a different-colored wrist band. The player can only guard, and be guarded, by an opponent wearing the same colored band. How is a kid supposed to learn a good match-up or amoeba-in-one defense?

I am really proud of Jackson for playing in this league. He's five but the other kids are a year or two older. Even though that seems like such a big difference at that age, he'll learn with time that it's not. Growing up, I always played against people bigger and stronger than I was. If I got beat, I came back stronger next time.

It's funny (not funny ha ha, though) how the moments that define our life usually occur by accident.

When I was in seventh grade, I played on the eighth grade team. I was a bit timid at first but learned I was just as good, if not better, than most. One home game, we found ourselves down by one point and the other team had the ball. A teammate of mine miraculously stole the ball and started to shoot. At the last second, he passed the ball to me, I hurriedly threw up a shot that had no chance of going in just as the buzzer went off. Fate felt bad for me and I was fouled.

It was a situation every boy has played out in his backyard. Down by one; no time on the clock; two freethrows. I made both, we won the game, and I was a seventh grade hero for the eight grade team. After that, I wanted the ball every time down the court.

I often think about what would be different had I missed one or both shots. Nothing major, I'm sure. Had I missed, the game would have been forgotten the next day. Well, probably not by me.

For balance, I have more vivid memories of the games I've lost.

In the eighth grade, I had a 15 footer to win the game - again, at the last second. I took the shot just before the buzzer and the ball bounced around the rim several times before falling out. I was devastated, nay, inconsolable. I left the court in tears. I punched my locker until my knuckles were bloody. It was not a pretty sight. But, it was still a defining moment.

This post was a little more nostalgic that I originally planned. I had intended to write that I'm hoping to do some star gazing tonight. We've had several night of cloudy skies in Merry Ol' Frisco.

Most of the stars I've been looking at lately are ones barely seen with the naked eye but easy to see with binoculars. The past couple of nights, I've looked at what is called the Double Double, a pair of stars by the star Vega.

With the naked eye, it appears to be one star. Because of its distance from the Earth, it's not even that bright. It's the fifth brightest star in the constellation Lyra. Through binoculars, it is actually two stars clustered together that just appear as one. To make it even more interesting, a telescope reveals that each of the two stars has its own star near it. What is seen as one is actually four.

So, I'll bring my binoculars and hope for a clear night.