Why I love rookies (a tribute to Michael Finley)

I first encountered a basketball in first grade. It was 1992 and I was in Mrs. Carloni's class at Lancaster Elementary School. Predictably, my favorite time of day was recess when my friends and I would scramble outside to the playground to play basketball. I cared deeply about  understanding the game, learning it, avoiding breaking rules or drawing attention to myself, and being able to fit in. If I did something well....that was a bonus.  

Unfortunately, someone in high school had dunked on the one basketball hoop at the playground and the rim had broken off, so we were forced to throw the basketball against the brick wall of the school building where our gym teacher, Mr. Judson had drawn a small square about 7 feet up with chalk.

I didn't have a television at home, nor did I have a family that cared much for organized sports, so when everyone began scrambling to identify themselves as members of the Dream Team, I was at a loss. The first day I asked my friend, Derek, to pick for me. Luckily he told me to be Scottie Pippen, so every day I would yell "I'm Pippen!" before everyone else.

It was during these games that I began to learn that you don't score "goals" or dribble with two hands in basketball. Furthermore, passing the ball to your friends always made them happy and made them want you on their team. I also learned about boxing out, that nobody liked people who said "that was a foul" or argued when other people said, "that was a foul." There was always someone else who would say it for you if it was, or wasn't a foul.

The result of these days was that I became a pretty good teammate and I began to love the game of basketball. I eventually made a 5/6 travel team as a 5th grader, sprained my ankle in the first game and rode the bench for most of the season. I learned how much I loved playing. The next year I got a chance to start and our team played a ridiculous 28 games, winning 27 of them. I can hardly take any credit, though my best game came in our one loss to Lisbon (NH). I scored 14 points. Normally (as in, nearly every game) I would score 4. I was the epitome of a role player. I didn't make many mistakes. I listened to my coaches, supported my teammates, and I played hard (I like to think of the image below as a testament of my sixth grade ferocity).

During my 4th grade year we had had the chance to house sit for some neighbors who had PrimeStar which meant I could watch an NBA basketball game for the first time. The game I happened to see was between the Orlando Magic and the Phoenix Suns. I taped the game and re-watched it innumerable times. The Magic won handily riding Shaquille O'Neal and Penny Hardaway to 60 points. Most impressive for me, though, was a rookie named Michael Finley on the Suns. 

Phoenix was without their best player, Charles Barkley, and the rookie Finley was getting the start. He ended up scoring 18 points and leading the team. He was number 4 (my birthday was 4/4/84 and I would always try to choose jersey numbers that were somehow derived from the number: 4, 40, 44, 31 (3+1)) and had gone to Wisconsin (my mom went to UW-Stout and I had mistakenly thought that meant she'd been at Madison and rooted for the Badgers)...but most importantly, he was new to the NBA and the idea of a ROOKIE had never occurred to me. As a 4th grader, I too was new to basketball and though Michael Finley is like me...I'm a rookie. I'm figuring it out...it's all new.

To this day, Michael Finley is always my answer to the question, "who is your favorite basketball player?" and I love knowing the story. He was my first ROOKIE, my first connection to someone to whom I could relate and I loved his game as an athletic shooting/slashing 6'7" wing player. But it was his connection to my own experience that I loved. When he won a championship during my senior year of college, I rooted hard for him. By then I was a Celtics fan, but Finley remained the object of my NBA fascination and love. He signed a contract with my beloved Celtics in 2009 and played with them in the NBA finals, losing to the Lakers. In the middle of his career, he did average 20 points per game for five straight years and was named to a couple All-Star games. He scored over 17,000 points in his 16 year NBA career.

By the time he ended up on my team, he wasn't a rookie any more. He was a seasoned pro, but the next phase of his career (that of a movie producer of great films like The Butler) was awaiting. It was time to be a rookie again.

My basketball career lasted through high school. I was rarely the high scorer, rebounder, or assist-tosser on my teams. I was often, though not always, the captain.  I earned four technical fouls in my high school career. If there was one thing I was, though, I was loyal. Kind of like my affinity for that rookie I watched one night on the Phoenix Suns.

I wonder how many people out there have Michael Finley atop their Mount Rushmore of NBA stars? 

So what does Michael Finley have to do with my job as a teacher?

I love rookies and I think of my students as just that. They are 8th graders and in so many ways, this is their first foray into being small adults. They are on the brink of High School and THEY ARE READY. I love rooting for rookies and seeing them exceed expectations. I am proud of them already for whatever it is they become. They remind me that I, too, am new at so many things. And I love that. I love being reminded of all the ways I, too, am a rookie, still tossing a ball against Mr. Judson's chalk-drawn hoop on the playground and being a student of the game.