By JALETTA ALBRIGHT DESMOND

The fourth grader who worked as a ball boy for our hometown Davidson College Wildcats showed much more graciousness and maturity than I did.

When I asked him about it, he smiled broadly and said he was happy that junior Stephen Curry was going to be drafted into the NBA.

And, me, the adult? I put on my black Wildcats shirt the day Curry
announced his eligibility for the draft, mourning his decision not to return for his senior year. I wasn’t ready to let our local hero leave home.

The magic began during the 2008 NCAA tournament with Stephen Curry, Jason Richards, and the Davidson Wildcats. The small private academically-acclaimed college of 1,700 students beat Gonzaga, Georgetown, and Wisconsin to get as far as the Elite Eight during March Madness more than a year ago.

They were the Cinderella team and Stephen was the fairy godmother who allowed us all to dream of entering the ballroom for the big dance. We were both proud and heartbroken when they lost to Kansas at the buzzer.

But my disappointment about his decision wasn’t just about his game.

Sure, I’m going to miss his miraculous three pointers, his genius on the court, and his generosity with teammates. And, of course, as one who writes about faith, I love the way he points to the rafters after every bucket and writes scripture on his red and white basketball shoes with a black Sharpie pen. (“I can do all things…”)

But, mostly, I regretted that he wasn’t completing his college degree. The kids admire him so much. One child in my daughter’s class didn’t have a pen and paper handy for an autograph when Curry visited the elementary school, so he grabbed a rock and asked him to touch it. That rock sat on the living room mantel for months. My daughter composed a letter to Stephen, asking him to stay for his final year and recruited all her classmates to sign it. Disappointment etched across her face when she came off the bus the day he announced he wasn’t coming back. She hoped she could influence his decision and her lesson that day was in personal ineffectiveness.

I wanted him to return his senior year – not just so we could spend one more season cheering for him from our bleacher seats at the Belk arena – but because he is a role model for thousands of young people, scoring high in the classroom and on the court. Also, we’re very proud in our little college town that Coach Bob McKillop’s team has a 100 percent graduation rate, that will now be tainted by Steph’s departure.

Still, he’s been such a good role model already. How could I ask for more?

It all changed when I saw him on the front page of the Charlotte
Observer’s sports section, wearing a black Charlotte Bobcats shirt, looking more than a couple months older, and working out with the coach. I was thrilled for Stephen Curry’s opportunity to be drafted, especially if it could be his hometown team. (Which is highly unlikely, because many think he will be in the top 10,  and the Bobcats have the 12th pick.)

But seeing him in the shirt, reading that day about his planned workouts with the New York Knicks and Washington Wizards, I could finally feel for him what the fourth grade boy felt all along.

Happy for him, I smiled broadly at the photo.

Sometimes, we have to let go. We have to allow someone to grow beyond the confines of our wishes and dreams for them and let them test the limits of their own wishes and dreams. We may think we know what is best.

But maybe we are wrong.

Yes, Stephen could have suffered an injury his senior year that would’ve altered his future. And, understandably, he wants a chance to follow in the large footsteps of his dad, former Charlotte Hornet Dell Curry. He had many other good reasons to make what amounted to be a very difficult decision and put his name into the hat for the NBA.

I trust he’ll continue to be the admirable young man he’s been to this point, and serve as a role model of modesty, graciousness, discipline, and determination for tens of thousands of potential young fans, rather than the smaller hometown crowd. You can bet that wherever he goes, I’ll be cheering him on as he chases his dreams and encourages other kids to dream, work hard, and make their own good decisions along the way.

Jaletta Albright Desmond is a self-syndicated columnist who writes about faith, family, and the fascinatingly mundane aspects of daily life. She lives in Davidson with her husband and two daughters. Contact her at jdesmond@bdtonline.com