No, Dad...

Yesterday, Brett and I decided to go to Venice Beach to play a little basketball. Now when I say “play basketball,” I really mean just shoot around…and when I say “shoot around,” I really mean Brett shoots and I rebound, watch, and sometimes…if I’m feeling courageous…shoot.

Anyway, we were at Venice shooting around, and this little boy comes and stands on the court with us. Brett stops, and asks him if he wants to shoot with “us.” The boy, of course, says yes, and they started taking turns shooting. This went on for a while, until a man (we assume it was the boy’s father) came over and started talking to the little boy.

While the boy was distracted by his father, Brett kept shooting. He had moved out to the 3-point line and was sinking 3 pointers one after another. Every single shot he put up went in. It was like magic! The little boy, his father and I all stood there watching Brett shoot. Suddenly, the little boy yelled out, “Wow! He must play for the NBA!!” The boy’s dad laughed a little, and told his son, “This man (Brett) didn’t play for the NBA, but he did spend a lot of time practicing to get that good.” I couldn’t help but smile as the little boy argued with his dad about whether or not Brett played for the NBA. He kept insisting that no one, except a NBA player, could make that many shots in a row.

It was cute watching that boy admire Brett for his talent, and I am sure Brett will forever be thankful to that little boy for letting him fulfill his lifelong dream of playing in the NBA.