I confess. I'm that crazy grandmother who hugs too hard, gives sloppy kisses and screams like a wild woman at my grandkids' sporting events. I do not care. It is who I am.
I love to watch their games - even the ones I can't pronounce, like whatever they call indoor soccer (foosball, soccerpuss, soluble fiber????) So, this past Saturday, I was in my glory, cause everybody was at the same place - the guys were even on the same court. Well, it was divided with half of the court that indoor soccer thing and the other half pre-school basketball.
Watching three and four year olds play basketball is something everyone should see at least once before they croak. I can only describe it as a free-for-all, blood bath. I guess at last week's game the casualties mounted up with nose bleeds, black eyes and more than a few tears.
Coaches and parents must have intervened because this last game was pulled off with no bloodshed. The focus this week was keeping their arms up. They looked like tiny participants in a Southern Baptist Revival.
Oh, sure, there was a lot of other stuff like one little guy who was more interested in hanging from the net while his team was at the other end of the court trying to dribble and shoot. And my little grand-of-the-heart, "Daw-some," who is a tiny dynamo, kept stopping the action to ask questions. He would stop mid-game, tap the coach or referee on the knee, and ask his question in his adorable, lispy voice. I'm thinking that innocent, I'm too cute for words, vibe will get him far in life.
His brother, "Lan-man," who is six, plays in the next level up. We call him our ball-hawk because he has an innate sense of the ball. He is the one who scores the most in soccer and makes the most baskets in basketball. He is focused on winning and does. He will be our attorney someday.
Seven year old, Ez, plays that indoor soccer thing, whose name eludes me. Playing soccer indoors on a half court is maddening. The ball is out of bounds more than not. Usually, it's out the door and down the hall. My son's brilliant girlfriend made the observation they should just put the goal in the doorway.
Anyway, Ez spent most of his court time watching his "brother" play basketball on the other half of the court. My husband, their Pap, shook his head - a lot. Ez is very good at scoping out the action and letting others do their thing. He is just as happy if somebody else scores - as long as the team wins. He is the "big picture" man who will make a great CEO someday.
My granddaughter, who is ten and very tall is playing basketball. It is her first time playing an organized sport. Some of her team mates are incredibly good - like Harlem Globetrotters material. And they are very aggressive. My sweet Lily is not. She may be taller than most, but she is very gentle and soft-spoken. Let me qualify that - unless she is dealing with little brother(s) - then she channels Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.
On the court, she is a tad hesitant. I mean, I get it. Who can think straight with a girl waving her arms in front of you like a demented windmill? But that's all part of the game. She spent awhile on the bench. Then, she was on the court. My heart was aching for her as I watched her, wide eyed, talking herself into focusing on the ball.
Then everything went into slow motion. I held my breath as she got the ball, turned and lobbed that thing straight into the hoop!! I have goose bumps now recalling the whole thing. It's not like it was a championship game - just an everyday game of hoops. But it was her first basket in her second game. I went completely bat-shit crazy...
You have to understand. I have a very bad back. I mean, I need help getting up and down the bleachers. My husband had to make a trip to Publix in between games to get me some Motrin. But there I was, channeling my high school cheerleader self - bad back forgotten - because my sweet Lily just made a basket! I was a wild woman. My poor son was trying to focus on the game as well as keep me from ending up in the ER. I know she heard me across the court and at one point made eye contact and gave me a tiny grin and a thumbs up.
Now, lest you think I am one of those competitive whack jobs who boo the opposing team - let me assure you - I applaud each side. I do. I mean, the other team had a precious girl who was taller than everybody and got every rebound. But she couldn't sink a shot to save her coach's life. I was praying for her each time she went for a layup.
But this was different. This was more than the game. It was about self confidence. It was about grabbing life by the balls - literally. It was about learning how to be part of a team but successful in your own right. Oh, I know, I overthink everything. Ironically, it was the piece of advice I gave her right before the game - "Don't over think it. Just focus and throw." - which I'm sure contributed to her sinking that shot...
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