Broken Scoreboard

Recently, my son’s basketball team played in a gym with a broken scoreboard. Two parents sat at a card table to keep track of points, fouls, time, and possessions. There was a small electronic scoreboard, but it faced the team benches, rather than the bleachers.

As a result, we fans could not see the score unless we walked down to the gym floor and craned our necks to see the other side of the table.

It was such a different experience without that scoreboard. I noticed how many times I looked up at it, even though I knew it was blank. It made me realize how often I must look at it during a normal game.

Without the scoreboard, I focused more on the kids. I appreciated the passes, the bold shots, the slick defensive moves. I watched their determined faces. I loved it when they helped each other up when someone fell to the ground. I loved it even more when they helped someone from the opposing team.

My favorite thing was how they encouraged each other, cheering through missed free throws and gathering at every timeout. What a joy to watch the kids who weren’t playing react to their teammates’ great shots and stand together when the referee made questionable calls.

Did we keep guessing the score on our own? Yes.

Did we take turns peeking on the other side of the card table? Yes.

But the focus shifted from who is winning to how it’s going.

It made me think about how much I miss by keeping score. And I’m not just talking about youth basketball.

I’m talking about all the things we miss because we focus on comparing performances.

What if I stopped checking to make sure that work is evenly divided?

Or who gets the credit?

What if I cared less about favors owed?

Or how many times my husband has taken the dog out?

I could stop worrying about how many steps I took each day, how many people liked a social media post, how many more [fill in the blank] someone else has, and countless other ways I keep score.

Maybe I’d think less about meaningless injustices.

Maybe I’d look for little victories.

Maybe I’d give less space to resentment and more to enjoyment.

Maybe I’d focus on high fives instead of numbers.

Maybe I’d just watch the game.

My memoir, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, is available here. 📖🩵

I’m also offering a one-hour online legacy writing workshop on June 22. If you’ve ever wanted to write your life story, but don’t know where to start, check it out. This also makes a great gift, especially for Mother’s Day! Register here.