In Which I Become a Raving Lunatic
There’s something that happens to even the most passive among us when our children play sports. For years we’ve listened to the boy’s concerts and saw him march across many a football field. Never once did I feel my blood pressure rise; never once did I scream like a lunatic.
Then the girl became a basketball player and we transitioned from the mild mannered band parents to another animal indeed: sports parents.
Wonder if Gandhi’s kids ever played sports?
My husband shot video of the last game and was replaying it across the room as I read tonight. It brought every moment of the game back as I listened to the chorus of parents cheering on the girls.
There was this moment, in particular, that I recall. The girl went for a shot and it bounced out; she caught the rebound and went for it again; out again, and here’s where I broke loose.
“PUT IT IN THERE!” I yelled, much in the manner you’d yell at a child to watch out for an oncoming car, or to stop making that infernal racket, or to escape a raging fire. I’m pretty sure the tendons on my neck stood out and my face turned red. Whoosh. A basket. “GOOD GIRL!”
It has taken me nearly 40 years but I do believe I’m becoming a sports fan.
February 5th, 2008 at 8:03 am
Our friend, Stephanie, said she can’t hardly attend her daughter’s b-ball games because she gets so nervous for her. Her daughter isn’t nervous at all, but Steph can barely get through a game.
Oh, and regarding my dishwasher…it is barely 4 years old. At first, I thought you were hitching up your pants in order to cover your Norgeman crack! YIKES!
February 5th, 2008 at 8:36 am
There’s something about watching your kid play basketball that brings the Bobby Knight out in you! It’s a little scary.