This is an opinion column.

I want a hype mama. I need a hype mama.

A bold, sequenced-up, God-lovin’, yeah-that’s-my boy hype mama.

Yeah, that’s right, craft that sentence! Amplify those adjectives! Spin-move that phrase then hit the closing clause! Period! Bam! Just like I taught you! Just like God made you!

Who couldn’t use a hype mama? Someone mimicking your moves, calling your plays, cheering your shots?

Who couldn’t use a Lameka Sears?

She’s the mother of Mark Sears, Alabama’s unchallenged leader and senior point guard. Its only player on this splendidly quilted first-ever Crimson Tide Final Four roster with Alabama roots. Its fire.

Lameka Sears, a Muscle Shoals nurse, is the match.

I’m tempted to call her America’s hype mama—with no intended disrespect to the myriad other mamas beneath the retractable roof in Glendale, Arizona on Saturday. She’s captured us all since the opening weeks of the NCAA Men’s Tournament when we saw her rockin’, bobbin’, and dribble-bouncing in the stands, in lockstep with her son as he prepped at the free-throw line.

Saw her grip, pause, elevate, and follow-through. Every time.

Saw her do it later a glowing red orb. Squeezing, caressing, poising it just so. Then grip, elevate, and follow through. Every time.

All while unabashedly shining her light—sharing her joyful, mama’s pride smile and donning custom-made tops that just may blow through your flat screen’s dpi.

“As long as it sparkles, I love it,” she told the Tuscaloosa News last month. “I just love that. I don’t know why, but I love a sparkling thing.”

Hype mom.

The thing—the bling—isn’t new. It’s not a made-for-unreal reality character choreographed for college basketball’s brightest stage. She’s been hype mama since Mark was in rec league. (Which you know annoyed the hype outta some folks.)

Lameka’s said she’s only been asked to leave one game—once when he was in high school, when she may have gotten a tad too hyped (”…a little upset… ” she puts it) over a foul call.

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.

—John 10: 27

I was a hype dad—okay, tried to be. Every sports parent screams, right? (Thank God, musical parents don’t. That’s right, massage those ivories! Pop those strings! Claim that chord! Hit that note like it stole somethin’!) My daughter, then in youth soccer, heard my voice. Too much so.

My chords would especially crescendo as she dribbled ahead of a chasing pack towards the opposing goal. Shoot! My timing, of course, wasn’t always her timing. And, of course, she didn’t always score. When she didn’t, she’d turn a glare at me—like I stole somethin’.

Mark sometimes hears mama’s voice. Even as the cacophony swells with the size of the crowds. With the stakes.

“She’s like, ‘Use your legs,’” Mark told the Tuscaloosa News. “Sometimes I laugh in my head.”

Lameka’s God’s hype mama, too. She’s unabashed, demonstrative, and confident in her faith and pours it into her son.

Last month, she shared with WAAY-TV in Huntsville that she carries Q-tips to clean Mark’s ears before games. “I just want to make sure he’s always in tune [with] that God is the One who has given him this gift,” she said, “and that he’s able to hear from Him.”

Last Saturday evening, the night before Resurrection Sunday, Lameka shared with Yahoo Sports what she told Mark on the court as he and the Tide bathed in the afterglow of the Elite Eight win over Clemson that earned their ticket to Arizona. “I told you, that God was gonna show you his glory, that He had a promise over your life and it was going to manifest in due time,” she said. “All we had to do was believe and never be infected by the doubters.

“When He called you, it was a personal call and not a conference call.”

She then turned and began poking her son in the chest with a long-nailed finger. “You began walking on Easter,” Lameka said. “Now, you’re dancing.”

Hype mom. Want one, too?

I’m a member of the National Association of Black Journalists Hall of Fame and a Pulitzer Prize finalist for commentary. My column appears on AL.com, as well as the Lede. Tell me what you think at [email protected], and follow me at twitter.com/roysj, or on Instagram @roysj.