On most Mondays and Wednesdays in January and February, you could find me in a middle school gym. There you would see ponytails flying, sneakers squeaking, coaches crouched on the sidelines, and parents gripping the bleachers a little too tightly. You would see diagrams on whiteboards and water bottles lined up like soldiers. You would see girls who are still growing into their limbs and their confidence, trying to remember which way to run and when to shoot.

And if you looked a little closer, you would realize it’s not just about basketball.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about middle school girls’ basketball. And what I realized is that middle school girls’ basketball teaches me what I need to know about life.  

Basketball at this young age is about learning how to have a plan—and what to do when that plan falls apart. It’s about figuring out your role, even when you don’t get the ball. It’s about listening to someone who can see the whole court when you can only see the defender in front of you. It’s about laughing at your airballs, celebrating your victories, and saying you’re sorry when your temper gets the best of you.

Middle school girls’ basketball is loud and messy and surprisingly wise. It’s a crash course in teamwork, humility, resilience, and joy. It’s a reminder that growth rarely looks polished and that character is built one possession at a time.

If you want a blueprint for how to live—how to work, how to love, how to fall down and get back up again—you could do worse than watching a group of middle school girls play ball. 

Here’s what I’ve learned. 

Have a play.

If you’ve ever watched a group of middle school girls play basketball for the first time, you know what I mean. Most of them are still figuring out which way to pivot, where to stand, and what on earth the coach meant by “run the play.” They’re trying to remember who sets the screen, who cuts to the basket, and which basket is actually theirs.

A plan matters. A play gives you direction. It tells you where you’re supposed to go.

Be able to adjust if the play isn’t working. 

But here’s the thing: sometimes the play falls apart.

Sometimes a player cuts to the wrong spot. Sometimes someone forgets to move their feet. Someone forgets their spot. The pass gets tipped. The defense does something unexpected. And suddenly the neat little diagram on the whiteboard turns into what feels like chaos.

That’s when growth happens.

Because it’s not enough to have a plan. You also have to adjust when the plan isn’t working. You have to pivot. You have to keep moving. You have to stay in the game.

Set the screen. Better yet, pick and roll. 

If you don’t speak basketball, here’s what that means: sometimes your job is to stand in the way of a defender so your teammate has a clear path to the basket. You personally may not score. You might not even touch the ball. But you create the opportunity for your teammate to score.

That’s what helping looks like.

And if the screen doesn’t work? You roll to the basket. You stay ready. You trust that your teammate might pass it back to you. 

Working together is how you win.

Listen to your coach. 

Coaches aren’t perfect. But they have done the work to study the game, learn their players, and create a plan. Coaches look for the Big Picture, the bird’s eye view of the court and the game to create opportunities for growth and for winning. 

Middle school girls’ basketball coaches are God’s reminder that God loves my middle school daughter more than I do. 

Laugh when you make a mistake. 

This might be my favorite thing about middle school girls: they can completely whiff a shot—airball it in spectacular fashion—and then burst out laughing. No shame. No drama. Just, “Well, that didn’t work.”

Mistakes happen. Own them. Learn from them. And then move on.

Also, don’t take yourself too seriously.

Be delighted when you make a basket. 

When you do make the basket—celebrate. Be delighted. Let yourself feel the joy of progress.

Refs are saints. 

Referees are saints. There aren’t too many people who love the game of basketball so much that they would subject themselves to (often loud) criticism from strangers, parents, coaches, even, at times, players. 

Good refs are especially amazing. The referees who pause to explain a call. The ones who see mistakes as teaching moments. They deserve extra jewels in their crowns.

There is no I in TEAM. 

Yes, it’s an old saying. Yes, it’s printed on a thousand gym walls. But it’s still true. You work on your skills. You practice. You grow. And you do it not just for yourself, but for the group you belong to.

Your work, your growth, your skills are what make the group stronger. 

Sometimes you need to have an Atomic Fire Ball to help you be careful with your words. 

Sometimes you need a really hot candy to remind you to be careful with your words—to let the heat sit in your mouth instead of letting something sharp fly out of it.

Sometimes the Atomic Fire Ball doesn’t work. 

And when that doesn’t work? Apologize. To the ref. To the coach. To your athlete.

It bears repeating: own your mistakes.

(*Author’s Note: Yes, this comes from personal experience. Sometimes the mama’s heart comes out stronger and louder than it should.)

Jump for the ball. Box out. Follow your shot. 

It’s easy to stand under the basket and watch the ball sail through the air. It’s harder to time your jump, to push gently but firmly into position, to fight for the rebound. It’s harder still to grab the ball and go up again for another shot.

But that’s the difference between watching the game and being in it.

Stay engaged. Keep your eye on the ball. Position yourself so you’re ready when opportunities come.

When you fall down–and you will fall down–get back up. 

Also, always be a player who helps others up. 

Basketball is a contact sport; sometimes you get pushed down. Sometimes you trip on your own feet and tumble. Sometimes the floor is slippery and you just fall. Sometimes you get knocked sideways.

Brush it off. 

Get back up. 

Better yet—be the player who helps someone else up. Even if they’re on the other team.

Play hard to the whistle (or buzzer). 

When you’re down by 16 points with two minutes left, it’s tempting to coast. To let the clock run out. To mentally check out.

It’s easy to stop when you’re tired.
It’s harder to keep playing.

Character shows up in those last two minutes. Show them who you are by how you play when you know you are losing and you don’t have any energy left. 

Cheer each other on. Work together as a team. 

Everyone–players, coaches, refs, parents, teachers–are fighting battles that you cannot see. Sometimes–often–you put in the work, you have a strategy, a plan, and are prepared, and then you hit a roadblock. 

While showing resilience in the face of adversity is admirable, sometimes what you need is someone cheering you on, someone willing to work with you. 

Be like the middle school girls who jump up and down and squeal when a teammate scores. Cheer each other on. 

And if we can learn to live the way they play—full of grit and grace, laughter and teamwork—we just might win at the things that matter most.

*One more Author’s Note: This blog post was written before the bombing in Iran and the Arabian Gulf that happened this weekend. It feels frivolous to post this blog instead of something meaningful, insightful, or challenging about world events and what the president is doing to (illegally) start war. I’m tired. I’m having a hard time playing hard until the buzzer sounds. So I’m going to leave posts about what is happening in the Arabian Gulf to my teammates. Maybe next month I’ll have something to say. In the meantime, I have two more middle school basketball games this week.