I like basketball. I’ve liked basketball ever since I figured out basketball was THE sport in my little 1A school, or more specifically, that basketball is where the boys were.
I don’t play basketball. As I’ve mentioned before, I was the boys basketball team manager for many years.
My sister played basketball. In fact she was talented enough to have played all the way through college, which taught me not only to appreciate the game for itself and not just its proximity potential, but also to appreciate the finesse of woman’s basketball over the hyper-aggressiveness of men’s basketball.
Of course, watching basketball is much more fun if you know the players, something my sports hating sports ignorant husband is learning. Recently we’ve been attending the local high school basketball games because our girls are performing with PIPs during half-time of the games. Basketball is a lot of things to a lot of people: exercise, personal achievement, entertainment and even for some, social opportunity, but for me and Jack, the past few weeks of watching kids we know and love play ball has been an aerobic exercise. The burning energy of excitement, pride, joy, disappointment, frustration and camaraderie has negated every calorie of those mandatory game nachos.
Both the varsity boys and girls made the district playoffs this year and while I’m thrilled for the kids and will continue to follow their progress, I’m a little sad to see the regular season go just as we were getting into the swing of things.
Oh well, track is coming up and that’s a sport I can definitely get behind (you know, in a vehicle, coaching the runners down the road.) As Thomas’s cross country practice jersey says, “My sport is your sports punishment.”