Feats Of Strength

Feats of Strength

John Paul Derryberry

I was a confused young kid, deep in the Pennsylvania foothills at a summer basketball camp. It was the quarter-finals of the week-long tournament we played with the team we were drafted onto. It was a camp stacked with division one recruits, of which I was not one, so I had to play out of position on this team and only played in the 1st and 3rd quarters. It shocked the system, and I felt too familiar with not being seen by those around me. It had been a reoccurring theme since my father's passing; whether it was an accurate theme is up for debate. Grief has a way of muddling up what is real and what we create to be real.

We entered the fourth quarter up 6, but we were playing one of the better teams that week. So after doing my job, I took my seat on the bench, hoping my better 4th-quarter teammates could pull it out. With about three minutes left to go in the game, which was all tied, our 6'6" center fouled out. Coach looked down the bench and said, "Derryberry, check in." I swallowed hard and stepped out on the floor. I was barely above 6 foot at this point in my life. The coach had just asked me to guard the 6'7" dude who had dominated one of our best players. The other team obviously noted the extreme height difference and quickly threw the ball to this giant of a human being. I was overmatched, and they promptly scored two points. Our coach called timeout, and I got the familiar feeling that I would get yelled at.

My coach for the week looked at me and asked me, "Why did I put you in to help us win this game?" I shrugged the universal, "I don't know." He stated, "All week long, you have been my smartest player. We both know the height difference and the athletic difference between that guy and you, but for the next 2 minutes and 30 seconds, if you play to your strengths, we have a shot. I have seen you outplay people you shouldn't all week because you stick to your strengths, are intelligent, resilient, and never stop trying to solve the problem. So please go solve that problem." At that point, I was so connected to that coach, I would have tried to breathe water to win that game.

And isn't that the wish of life, to be seen as our whole selves-- to have others see our strengths and our well-known weaknesses; to be told, this is why I like you, why I care for you, why I love you. Not to be reminded of our shortcomings over and over again. We are all aware of the weaknesses we have in life. We curse them every time we screw up. We constantly think the key to unlocking a better version of ourselves is to work on weaknesses. Bosses, friends, loved ones believe the best way to support us is to point out what we haven't or can't do. Unfortunately, it often leaves us feeling unseen and incapable of participating in healthy relationships.

Look, working on weaknesses is always a part of life. But maybe it shouldn't be the go-to we use with other people because we all have stuff we do well. There are things we do better than anybody else, yet we aren't often told to lean into that more or have it pointed out by the people we care most about. In our culture, we save that stuff for after the person is out of our lives, which at that point, we are just wasting air because it won't change the situation. I often think we point out other's weaknesses to lessen the burden of our own shortcomings.

But that day, a coach decided not to do that. Instead, he chose to go with my strengths in a pivotal moment in a game. Maybe it was his only option because pointing out the physical differences was a moot point, but whatever the reasons, it worked. I outsmarted this better basketball player for the next 2 minutes and 23 seconds, and we won. Maybe more of us would succeed in life if others dared to point out why we love the people we do; it's usually because of all their strengths. I know that more people would feel seen and feel whole. And, if we do enough of that, who knows what feats of strengths we could accomplish.