Basketball

Several years ago, the Teenager tried her hand at basketball.  She was a decent player, but she decided after a few seasons that basketball wasn't for her and that was the end of her basketball career.  While she was playing, however, the Son of Never Stops Eating and I would go watch the games.  He would cover his ears and wince in pain at the sound of the ball being dribbled on the gym floor.  The Grandfather of No went to an industrial supply store and purchased a pair of industrial strength noise cancelling phones, solving that problem.

We tried various sports with the Son of Never Stops Eating- an early attempt at soccer had me running around the playing field trying to catch him as he ran around laughing. Baseball was slightly more successful; bowling was a miserable failure (too noisy in the bowling alley).  Swimming turned out to be a great success, but the season was limited to the summer.

Finally, last fall, we decided to try basketball again. He had played some basketball in school and in a Buddy Sports league, so he had some skills.  However, we were going to up the game on him: a basketball team, playing against other basketball teams, in the local Special Olympics league. 

I want to think about it, he said, when we suggested it.  The next day, he agreed. We went to tryouts.  He was placed on a team.  He started practice.

Then someone stole my kid and put a basketball fanatic in his place.

I honestly have a love-hate relationship with organized kids' sports.  I was proud of the Teenager when she was placed on a summer softball All-Stars team, and then I sat in the blazing summer heat feeling guilty because I really wanted her team to lose the game so that we could all go home and sit in the air conditioning.  When she'd finally stopped playing softball, I had been sad and glad at the same time.

Now, apparently, I was going to be a basketball mom.  Bring it on.

Right before Christmas, the Son of Never Stops Eating made it known that he'd like to have his own basketball.  I had been telling everyone for weeks that the shopping was done, the wrapping was done, and if there was something else you wanted you could just suck it up and wait until Christmas 2017.  Yet here I was in Academy Sports three days before Christmas, perusing the basketball section, still in disbelief that he had actually requested something that was not Legos. 

He was thrilled with the basketball.  He took it with him when we went to visit the Grandparents of No after Christmas, and dribbled up and down their driveway.  He played basketball with his cousins.  He tried to shoot baskets from far away.  The Grandpa of No told him that if he broke anything, he was paying for it, and not to wake up his grandmother. 

He can't wait for his first game.

Unlike softball, which I know nothing about, and marching band, which I also know nothing about, I do know something about basketball.  One day, I was outside with the basketball fanatic, shooting hoops and feeling confident in my skills.  We were playing some basketball! I blocked him! he blocked me! I stole the ball! I dribbled towards the goal! I made my shot!.....and it bounced off the rim and into someone's yard.

The Son of Never Stops Eating stood there, shaking his head, and finally sighed deeply.

Mom, he said, your skills need some work.

Then he made a shot, which went in without even touching the rim.

Yes, I am a basketball mom.