"I am a little nervous about all of this, Emily."
"Why would you be nervous?" Emily asked, keeping her eyes on Hartsville, South Carolina's streets, as she drove around Coker University toward DeLoach Center, the university's gymnasium.
"I don't know. I am anxious about everything nowadays."
"You don't need to be, Uncle AJ."
"I know. I am excited about watching Michael's practice. We are going to sit away from the team, right? I don't want to call any attention to myself or mess up his practice."
Emily laughed and continued to put me at ease. "We'll be fine. We will sit away from the team up in the bleachers."
"That'll be perfect," I told her with relief.
I planned this trip for months, eagerly anticipating seeing Emily's husband coach his second season of men's basketball at Coker University. At the end of November, the Cobras were a nationally ranked basketball team, so I had picked the perfect time to visit. I just did not want to jinx the team by being here.
Emily and I walked into the spacious gymnasium. I expected the team would have already been running up and down the court. Not a soul sat anywhere in the blue bleachers where I thought we would inconspicuously watch practice. Surprisingly, I found a collection of chairs across the floor in preparation for a ceremony. Ushers sat in each of the four corners of the gym while a woman explained what they would be doing later in the day.
"Oh, Uncle AJ," Emily whispered. "The school is having winter graduation here tomorrow morning before the game. I didn't think they would be setting up this early." She waved her hand for me to follow her. "They must be practicing in the auxiliary gym."
We left the big gymnasium, where I pictured my anxious self quietly watching the practice, and headed toward what I knew would be a much smaller gym. I would lose the security of the open area, and now I struggled to envision a different scenario in which I would be much closer to the action than I wanted to be.
Emily opened the fire door so I could enter the auxiliary gym. Oh, No. I thought to myself. They are already practicing. I looked around for a long bench, perhaps even a chair. Damn. Nothing. As the coaches observed the organized chaos from the center court, the players ran back and forth, dribbling, passing, and shooting a dozen basketballs. I felt like a student who was incredibly late to class already in session, struggling to find an open desk where there were none.
Emily was already walking down the sidelines. She turned around and tenderly smiled as I stood far behind her. She again waved for me to follow her to where she had found a couple of fold-out chairs hidden behind an equipment cart. I quietly and carefully walked near the edge of the court, already caught up in the excitement and slightly worried about an errant pass hitting me upside my old head.
The two of us sat in the same chairs for the entire practice. Ever the mother and multi-tasker, Emily watched but spent occasional moments on her cell phone looking for last-minute Christmas gifts. I was there for the first time and locked in.
Last year, Michael took his first head coaching job at Coker University. The distance between Wheeling and Hartsville has had us all watching the Cobra games on Flosports rather than in person. Two winters ago, I would help Mom walk into my cozy study, where she would sit in my recliner while watching the games stream on my desktop.
We both had a printed roster to cheer for the team's players, occasionally yelling at them while munching on our bowls of chips and dip. Mom loved watching Coker as much as she loved watching Emily and Michael play for the West Liberty Hilltoppers. Game nights were big events in our house.
I found myself asking Emily questions about the players. They were odd questions but ones that helped me connect this team with last year's team. "So Ian, he got big over the summer, didn't he?" "And Glen, his hair is short this year." Emily would laugh at my observations and then update me on all the recent changes, pointing out the new players and where players from last year had gone. It was all too much to remember.
In The Empire Strikes Back, Yoda tries to teach a young Luke Skywalker to "feel the Force" so that he can become a Jedi Knight. The Force is the energy surrounding all living things, binding them together. A Jedi must be able to "feel the Force" because it is palpable to those who can sense it. By doing so, a Jedi can use his gifts and power.
As a teacher, I always relished the moments when everyone in the class was actively engaged in what we were doing. We could be working on a creative project, having a class discussion, or peer-editing during a writing lab. Students would talk with one another, perhaps even unknowingly inspire a peer. Occasionally, someone would struggle, and a classmate would volunteer to help. There was simply this feeling that everyone was working with a united sense of purpose - a synergy.
As I watched the team, I witnessed their synergy from the outside looking in. Yet, despite sitting on this fold-out chair alongside the brick wall, I still felt the energy, almost as if I were part of the team on the court. I was glad that we weren't in the larger gymnasium. From here, I could watch everyone pushing one another, barking out directions to those out of position, and celebrating when one of the new guys showed more heart than anyone thought he had.
The team broke into smaller squads to practice their full-court press and run their offense and defense in half-court scrimmages, while squads who were catching their breath would talk about how they, as a group, could do better when they headed back into action. Even though the grueling practice continued non-stop for nearly an hour and a half, no one seemed to lose enthusiasm.
Later, I shared my thoughts with Michael and Emily about the practice, comparing them to my experiences in the classroom. Watching them reminded me of the difficulty of keeping a group on the same page while moving toward a similar destination. I shared with Michael that a team exhibiting this type of unity is a work of art.
Synergy harmonizes in a choir singing on key with equal passion, presenting a moving rendition of a classical hymn. Synergy exists in an incredible painting where all the hues, strokes, and shadows blend perfectly. And synergy embodies a team that respects, supports, and celebrates one another as they all reach for a common goal.
Yes, Luke, feel the synergy.
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