What if it really were that simple: life is but a game of basketball… and we knew our teammates had our backs?

This photo taken in 1973 of my mom, dad, sister, and me reminds me of the most simple I got you of all: family. We already understood the basics. “I got you, babe” (a little Sonny & Cher) was the way life was supposed to be.

I even had the Cher doll back then—the one with two buttons on her back: press one and her hair grew long, press the other and it retracted short again. Just like the feeling that someone would always have your back. (Or at least I’d have my Cher doll’s back — press the button, and her hair grew long again.)

But the world didn’t always work that way. From my school days to my daughter’s school drop-offs, from me growing up to my daughters growing older. I got you wasn’t something I saw much outside my front door.

At home, it was instinct. Out in the world, it was broken promises.

Just like Sonny and Cher broke up and my Cher doll disappeared to time — and eventually gave way to the American Girl dolls in my daughters’ worlds. Things change, sometimes painfully so.

But the one thing that doesn’t change — the only thing that really lasts — is I Got You Trust.

And when trust is there? It changes everything.

The Freedom Trust Brings

When your teammates have your back, you get the ball, you take the fast breakaway, and suddenly you have the freedom to do what you’re meant to do with it.

I think of Julius Erving, doing his ballet in the sky as he slam-dunked those baskets. He could only have that freedom through trust.

And it got me dreaming:

What if life really were played like a game of basketball? What if we were surrounded by teammates in everyday life?

It sounds dreamy, doesn’t it? But step off the court and into real life, and that dream doesn’t always show up.

When Trust Breaks Down

I knew that feeling well in the freelance TV world. We all worked on the same shows, deadlines, and goals—but it was every man for himself, a “team” as reliable as a spam caller: predictable, but never safe.

That’s when you long to crawl back into the only safety net you can count on: your own family. The team that doesn’t keep score. The ones who pass along the hair dryer without ceremony, play Taylor Swift MadLibs in the car, and watch Mamma Mia with you just because it’s yours. They don’t have to announce “I’ve got you.” They live it in every small action.

And that’s when it hits me—the irony. I’ve been searching all my life for the trust of a teammate calling out from behind me. But the truth is, I’ve had that team all along. Not in a traffic jam. Not in a grocery store. Not even in a workplace. Here, in my family. In the laughter, in the off-key singing, in the ordinary moments that become extraordinary because they remind me: I’m not alone.

From Broken Promises to I Got You Trust

We complicate life, don’t we? We change the rules halfway through, give up when it’s hard, walk off the court before the buzzer. Some days we forget to even shoot for the basket.

But at its core, life isn’t that complicated. It’s a game of basketball. You keep moving, you keep passing, you keep showing up. And what makes it bearable—what makes it beautiful—is the deep voice you can trust behind you. Someone saying, “I got you.”

Sometimes that voice belongs to a teammate, sometimes to your child, sometimes it has to come from inside your own tangled, doubting head. But it’s always there if you’re willing to hear it.

And when you can’t hear it? I’ll say it out loud: I got you. I have your back.

Because when you know someone truly cares, when you can trust they’re with you through every stumble and fast break—you matter. You’re not just playing alone on an empty court. You belong to a team.

And maybe that’s what my dad knew all along. He never said it out loud, but he lived it every day: life is but a game of basketball.

And as I look back at that old photo, I see it now too. Seasons change, children grow, parents shift roles, but the clarion call never does. Teams evolve, but the promise remains the same: I Got You Trust.

Or as Sonny and Cher once sang it best: “I got you, babe.”