“Hey CJ, guard me for real this time,” I mumbled trying to sound cool.  

CJ pulled at his tank top and got down in a stance, his arms outstretched at 8 and 4 o’clock. I began dribbling to his right and then did my signature spin move, dribbling back to the left, and speeding under the hoop for a reverse layup. (CJ had seen me do this move a million times.) As the shot left my hand, CJ hovered, swatting the ball in mid-air like a volleyball player, sending it careening down the hill towards the baseball fields.

“Was that real enough for ya? chuckled CJ.

“Yeah, too real,” I said with a smirk.

CJ and I spent a lot of hours shooting hoops at the school playground next to the house where I grew up. Basketball was the kind of sport that I could practice on my own and it was even more fun when my neighborhood friends would drop in for impromptu pickup games.

Basketball also came with its challenges, both physical and mental. I was the smallest kid in my class going back to kindergarten, and the youngest. No matter how much I practiced, my friends were always a step better. I would easily get frustrated when I couldn’t get open for a shot and sometimes, I would telegraph a pass, only to watch my friends steal it and run to the other end of the court for an easy layup.

When I became frustrated, people knew. My face would turn red and I would quickly become aggressive and impatient. Later that spring, we played another Saturday pickup game. Halfway through, CJ blocked another one of my shots and this time he and my friends laughed. In my frustration, I retrieved the ball and hurled it toward CJ, who was not looking. It hit him between the shoulder blades with a loud thud.

“Ow, “yelled CJ, looking angrily, rubbing his neck. “You got to control your temper, man!” I heard one of the guys say. CJ said nothing.

I felt tears starting to well up. Rather than face up to my actions, I turned around and walked home.

It took me a long time to understand negative emotions like these. For many of us, feelings of sadness, anger, fear and frustration tend to surface in all sorts of situations. For young and old, it’s natural to blame others for the negative feelings we experience. Once we point the finger, we view others’ actions as the cause, and we react in unfortunate ways.  

The peace activist, Marshall Rosenberg, had an answer to when negative emotions “become alive” in us. His method of non-violent communication (NVC) is extremely helpful when teaching our children how to communicate with each other. NVC requires a deeper emotional awareness where “behind every action, however ineffective, tragic, or violent… is an attempt to meet a need.”¹

Rather than lash out at the person we think brings our feeling to life, NVC guides us to attach what we really need to the emotions we are feeling. Only then can we avoid deeper conflict and stay connected with one another. It begins by finding a way to reveal our unmet needs, guessing what others need to, and requesting help to make our experiences better in the future.

Our children are keen observers of how adults in their community, on social media and in the news, communicate with each other. Unfortunately, our world is filled with violent language and conflict. Every day is a reminder for me to recognize what that short-tempered tween needed years ago on the basketball court. He needed help to see through his anger and understand his need to feel accepted by his peers.

I believe CJ sensed what I was needing that day. Later that week, he asked me if I was feeling better. I couldn’t tell him then, but now I would say, “I was embarrassed when everyone was laughing, because I want to play as well as you guys. I’m sorry I took it out on you. When I feel that way again, I will step away from the game to cool down, while you retrieve the ball.”

¹ Rosenberg, Marshall B. Non-Violent Communication: A Language of Life: Create Your Life, Your Relationships & Your World in Harmony with Your Values. Puddle Dancer ; Gazelle, 2003.

Image: Outdoor Basketball Play by StockCake