One-Handed Boy Promised to Become Basketball Star to Dying Dad, Later School Stadium Chants Dad's Name – Story of the Day

Tim's father had gone forever, but his words stayed with the boy. Years later, in his moment of hard-earned victory, he didn't expect to hear the name that meant most to him echoing among the crowd.

Tim sat holding his father's veiny hands, knowing their final hug was seconds away.

Tim sat still as his father, his hero, watched him with tearful pride from head to toe.

"Son," the dying man took a deep breath in, trying to draw just enough life into himself to say his final words.

The boy leaned closer to his father, his heart ready to catch every single word that was about to be said.

"Remember: you are not a broken boy. You are destined for greatness. You are not meant to sit on the sidelines and wait to be picked. You are meant to step up, claim your position, and play.

"There will be voices who make fun of you. But one day, they will chant in your victory."

"Put your heart in the game, son. And no matter how hard it may seem, don't give up. My Tim, my champion, give me your word!"

Tim hugged his father and promised through tears, "You have my word, dad. I won't give up. Your son won't rest until he is a basketball superstar!"

In that single moment, the father and son relived every tireless practice session, every game they watched, every technique they learned, and every laugh and life lesson they shared on the practice field.

In the pain and strength of that last firm hug with his dad, Tim forgot that he only had one hand.

Three days later, when friends and family gathered and dispersed from his father's gravestone, Tim touched the wet soil and repeated that promise.

"I'm going to be a basketball superstar, dad," Tim said. "Wherever you are, stay close, dad, and watch over me."

Tim's promise to his father became his purpose. Without it, he would have quit sports after the terrible accident that cost him his hand. Without his father's push, Tim would've settled for pity and sympathy from others rather than take on the challenge of becoming an unbeatable one-handed basketball player.

It is this love for his dad and madness for excellence that got Tim to wake up the morning after his father's cremation and head straight to the neighborhood basketball court.

"Hey, can I play with you guys?" Tim tried to ignore how the bunch of kids at the court were staring at his hollow right sleeve.

"Basketball? You wanna play basketball with one hand? You've got to be kidding me, buddy. This is not for you…"

"Oh, that's no problem. I really can play…" Tim tried to explain, asking one of the kids to toss him the ball.

"Nah, man, this is too freaky. Your whole look is giving me the creeps. There's no way you're playing with us. So either you leave or we will," the head of the group said with a thick layer of disgust in his voice.

"Leave, please!" Another boy from the group pleaded. Somehow, that hurt more than the group leader's insult.

Tim lowered his head and walked back slowly towards his house.

The following day, the boy was back at the cemetery after school, kneeling where his greatest source of strength had been put to rest.

Listen to the voices that believe in you.

"I know I promised you, dad. But I'm scared. People around me, the kids at my school, neighbors, uncles, and cousins, only see me as a kid with one hand. Nobody will ever look at me like I'm normal, one of them. Maybe I am a broken boy…" Tim wept into his hands, longing to hear the one voice that had been snatched away from him.

"Hi there, son!" an older man's familiar voice called from behind. Terrified, Tim turned around to look. It was uncle Dan, one of Tim's dad's best friends.

"Did I ever tell you what we used to call your dad in high school?" uncle Dan asked, wiping the boy's tears.

"We used to call him the Determinator. He wasn't great at any sport and was just about average in academics. But there was one thing he would never give up. There was this girl in high school, two years younger than us..." Uncle Dan smiled.

"Your dad met her and fell in love with her in the blink of an eye. The girl was a star at school and had another boyfriend, this tall giant with long hair and big hands. The boy and his friends gave your dad a lot of trouble."

"But our Determinator, being the stubborn soul that he was, took a lot of beatings and stood up to them a million more times. The day he got a broken nose and had to be rushed to the hospital, I was standing by his bed."

"He told me, 'Dan, I'm going to marry that girl someday.'"

I laughed and asked him, "What makes you say that?"

He smiled and asked me to look behind me.

Surely enough, the girl your father had been pursuing for five long years was standing at the foot of the bed, smiling shyly.

"That woman is your mother, Tim. Since then, that was the greatest proof of your father's determination, and he loved to tell and retell that story. Until you came along. Then you became his proudest story to tell."

"You're his son, Tim. Whatever courage or strength you're looking for, you've already got it. Keep looking until you find it."

Every night since that conversation with uncle Dan, Tim would wait for the neighborhood basketball court to be empty.

His mother would wait outside while Tim practiced alone for hours. He was away from all the pitying eyes and ridicule and had found the peace he needed to work on his basketball skills.

His mother happily gave up her sleep for Tim, seeing how much it meant to the boy.

Four years went by, and Tim had the opportunity that excited him and scared him at the same time.

Tim's school was celebrating a milestone year, and there was going to be a grand basketball game for which kids would have to practice for months leading up to the event.

This was Tim's chance to showcase the skills he'd been working on. He was excited to go to school that day, knowing in his heart that he was going to be selected for the team.

But it was not to be. Tim entered the basketball court and soon realized that nothing had changed. The kids weren't any kinder. In fact, their mockery had only gotten bigger and worse over the years.

While teachers helplessly tried to control the mischievous boys and girls booing him, Tim found himself cornered with the same terrible names and slogans from all those years ago.

Drowning in the noise and the rain of crumpled paper balls flung at him from every direction, Tim sank his head and walked out.

Weeks flew by until there was just one week before the big game. Nobody in the entire school was as anxious as the basketball coach Mr. Sutton.

"We're in quite the situation, sir," Mr. Sutton was scratching his bald head cluelessly. "With one of our best players down with a broken leg, we don't know how we're going to compete."

"That's what we've hired you for, isn't it, Mr. Sutton? We've got a lot riding on this game. Please, leave me to my million tasks and don't come back in here without a solution," the principal signaled the coach towards the door.

Mr. Sutton couldn't sleep that night. He knew he was on the brink of getting fired, and losing this job would put a big question mark on his wife's yearlong treatment.

Lost in thought, the coach was taking a walk with his dog around the neighborhood that was fast asleep.

That's when he noticed someone playing at the small neighborhood basketball court. Under the flickering streetlight, Mr. Sutton saw something that filled him with shame, awe, and hope at the same time.

He watched as Tim single-mindedly practiced the sport, dodging, dribbling, and leaping in the air to land the ball masterfully through the hoop every single time.

An hour had gone by before Mr. Sutton interrupted the boy.

"You sure have practiced those techniques, kid! But the anger in your game, where's that coming from?"

From the corner of his eye, Tim had recognized coach Sutton several minutes ago.

"What do you care?" Tim yelled, unable to control his anger.

"I care because without knowing where that anger is coming from, I can't let you play at the final game at school on Saturday."

Tim paused in shock for a second and then laughed it off. "You do see I'm 'Timmy Five Fingers' as they call me in schools, don't you? I'm not exactly someone the school wants to have on their team…"

"I don't care what the school wants. I'm here. I'm looking at you. I'm noticing the fire in your eyes and the raw talent in your moves, and I'm asking you: what do YOU want?"

Tim dropped the ball, and for the first time in his life, he told someone what he had promised his dying father.

Mr. Sutton didn't know how to console the boy. Instead, he said, "I want to see you at the school basketball court at 5 a.m. tomorrow."

The countdown to game day was at zero, and Tim was seconds away from stepping into the court to play his first big game.

He tried not to look at the crowd or the other team. Tim closed his eyes and reminded his father to watch over him.

He remembered the man's final words.

"...but one day, they will chant in your victory."

Throughout the game, Tim kept his eyes on the ball and the hoop, tuning out the taunts and comments of his opponents.

The whole school watched in pin-drop silence as the boy they had mocked all those years was scoring point after point.

And when Tim leaped in the air to dunk the ball through the hoop in the decisive last few seconds of the final quarter, it was as though their hearts were in his hand.

He did it! Tim had led his team to the win right until the end. And yet, there was only silence across the audience, barring a loud cheerful whistle by Mr. Sutton, who couldn't be spotted in the crowd.

The adrenaline of victory was everything that Tim had imagined it would be. He collapsed onto his knees and threw his balled fist up in the air. And just when Tim took a deep breath in and was about to scream, he was reminded of his father. Surrounded by his entire school, the boy burst into tears instead.

Had Tim not closed his eyes and surrendered to his tears, he would have seen that there wasn't a dry eye in the audience.

Having wept in the massive silence, Tim finally got up and started walking to the locker room.

That's when the silence in the room crackled with a hundred roaring voices around Tim. There were banners of 'Tim, our basketball superstar!' held up in the crowd. Every eye was proud, every palm raised high and swaying, and every voice chanted one name.

"Larry! Larry! Look, he did it, Larry! Larry! Larry! Look, he did it, Larry!"

Tim was overwhelmed by the sudden chanting, and when he found Mr. Sutton in the crowd, he gave Tim a knowing smile, asking him to savor the moment.

Mr. Sutton had told the entire school about Tim's story, how he lost his arm, how he wanted to be a basketball star, and how much his dad meant to him.

Hearing children and teachers chanting that one name out loud made Tim surrender and cry again. Larry! That was the name closest to Tim's heart. It was his father's name.

The following day, Tim returned to the cemetary, this time, with something special to show his father, wherever he was watching from.

"I kept my promise, dad. And even though you weren't there, this is your victory, too. I will always make you proud!"

"This one's for you, dad, From your champion." Saying this, Tim opened the neatly folded jersey that he had worn at the game. It was a bright yellow jersey, and his teammates had spray painted the words "Basketball Superstar!" across it. He showed it to the heavens, then folded it back, and left it below his hero's name, to be treasured there forever.

What can we learn from the story?

• Never give up on your dreams. Tim encountered many obstacles on his path to proving his basketball skills, but he didn't allow any of them to break him.
• Listen to the voices that believe in you. Just like Tim, we all have at least one person in our lives who believed in us, even when we didn't believe in ourselves. Those voices deserve to be cherished and appreciated.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about another bright young boy who gave up his seat for an older woman on the bus, despite having only one leg himself.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone's life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.