Silent No More

Kyle took a deep breath. Sweat dripped from his forehead and hit the hardwood. The scream of the crowd was background noise.

One dribble. Two dribbles. The basketball was the most familiar thing in the world. He glanced at the clock and one second stood staring him in the face. Down by one, the championship on the line. His heart pounded in cadence with the dribbles of the ball.

All he had to do was make both free throws. Just two shots through the basket, and finally – finally – he could prove he was worth something.

He lined up the shot and let the ball fly. It bounced twice on the rim and then… back to the floor. His heart dropped with it.

No, it’s okay. He had one more shot, one more chance. He couldn’t help but glance at the noisy crowd. Tim’s face was set, but he gave an encouraging smile. Beside him, Mom was clutching Tim’s arm. Tim had chosen to wear the Navy uniform, as if to declare his successes and Kyle’s failures.

Kyle gulped and caught the pass from the ref, took another deep breath. One dribble. Two dribbles. He tried to drown out the noise, but it wasn’t the noise of the crowd. It was the noise of his Mom in his head, and all the times she would compare him to Tim. Tim could graduate from the Naval Academy, so why couldn’t Kyle make it to college? Any college. He wasn’t smart enough, so maybe he could get a basketball scholarship. Tim could hold a steady girlfriend. So why couldn’t Kyle? His insistence that he didn’t like girls fell on deaf ears. Tim could keep his room clean, his car clean, his life organized. Why couldn’t Kyle? Any time he tried to explain his ADHD, it fell on deaf ears. Being gay, having ADHD, and a million other things never amounted to anything. 

But he had basketball. It was Mom’s last hope that Kyle would do something meaningful. 

Focus! He lined up the shot. Let the ball loose. It hit the front of the rim, bounced into someone’s hands, and the buzzer went off. 

Kyle’s mind flew to the different sound of a buzzer. The kitchen timer, to be exact, had been shrill to his six-year-old ears when Dad had looked at Mom, looked at his kids, and said, “It’s too much,” and walked out. He never came back, and dinner was burnt that night. Mom hadn’t even taken it out of the oven; Tim had when the smell of smoke had filled the house. 

Reality came into focus. Kyle moved through the motions of the end ceremony, staying silent. Mom and Tim met him outside the locker room. 

“Don’t worry, Kyle.” Tim flung his arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “The scouts won’t consider that when they decide on offering you a full ride or not.” Mom didn’t say a word, just walked to the car.  

Kyle sat in the backseat. Silent.

***

Here is some research on the percentage of teens facing pressure to succeed in various aspects of their life. Check out this website for tips on how to help.