Saturday, June 08, 2013

B is for Basketball

Earlier this Spring in a fit of ambition and delusion that, in retrospect, probably came from someone spiking my coffee with strong illegal narcotics, I signed Hopper up for Basketball at the Y. We started today. It was, um. Well.

I'd been talking with Hopper all week about it,  trying to get him prepared. And he told me straight away that he was going to be Number 8. I don't know where he pulled that out of, but he was pretty insistent that he was definitely, not a question going to be number 8.  So we get there early to meet our coach and get our jerseys and.. There is no number 8 jersey. I know because I dug through that entire box looking, like three times. So, I got the next best thing in my mind which was 88. Double the eights, double the fun. There was a brief, momentary lip tremble, but Buddy! Double the eights!  Eight! Eight! Isn't that Great?? He was appeased. And then proceeded to yell Eight Eight Isn't That Great! for the next forty-five minutes. You're welcome, other parents. 

Our next challenge was getting little brother to leave the court, which was not happening. Result: total physical removal to the childcare center where I could hear him screaming for BAABALL all the way down the hall. Sorry, kiddo. In a couple of years. 

Sitting for a bit of coaching. 

For the first 30 minutes or so, they just tried to teach them all the basics. Like throwing. 

Running drills.

This is supposed to be how to do defense. 

Shooting goals. 

And then how to sit and listen to the coach and not be distracted by the playground that's just outside that window over there. 

He did met his teammates, who are all a year older than he is. 

Made buddies with 44. 

And then proceeded to climb on the goal like a monkey while everyone else is at the other end of the court actually playing the game. 

Next week:  we work on dribbling. 

And then five seconds after the game ended, the childcare lady comes to find me to tell me that Rowan's eyes look "really red". Sigh. Sorry for the pinkeye, everyone we came into contact with. We didn't know.  I should probably just assume that we've got some sort of contagion at any given point, just to be safe.

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