Well, due to mostly positive feedback, I've decided to continue my posts. For those of the negative opinion, may a fondue skewer find an unfortunate target.
My son, Ethan, has signed up for a basketball league this January. He practices on Tuesday nights with the rest of his 2nd grade teammates. Since I work Tuesday nights, I miss out on seeing his progress. I played basketball in the ancient days of high school, so it was exciting to hear that it's still played with a round ball, round hoop with a net and on a basketball court. He described some of the passing and dribbling drills they do and it brought back my own memories of those same drills. The dribbling off my foot drill and the catching the ball with my face drill were ones at which I was especially skilled.
So, with Ethan's enthusiasm and my longing for the glory days, we drove to open gym at the high school to show our skills.
Step one:Send a message to everyone in the gym by "skying" to the rim on the first shot.
Step two:Limp back to the sidelines after "skying" attempt failed to touch net and also reminded me to stretch out first.
Step three:Stretch out.
Step four:Stop stretching due to groin pull.(See Step two)
By this time Ethan was tired of watching my theatrics (or geriatrics) and decided to find a hoop to shoot on. We start shooting around and I asked him what he does at his team practices. He tells me about the passing drill where he and his teammate pass the ball back and forth while shuffling sideways down the court. I determined this drill risky, with the groin pull and all."What else?", I ask him. We also practice dribbling without looking at the ball. This I can probably handle. We start dibbling and he is pretty good for 8 years old. He tells me to walk around him while he dribbles so his head follows me and he keeps dribbling. "Pretty good", I tell him. Then I say, "Watch this". I grab the ball and start dibbling like a jackhammer. Left, right, between the legs, behind the back, I'm putting on a show! I'm not sure when, but sometime during behind my back or between the legs the ball disappeared. I hear an "Oh my God!" and a loud thud. I look around and see a parent holding their nose. Now it's my turn to say, Oh my God! I go over to apologize. I came back with a dictionary full of expletives. Many I haven't heard before and most I'll have to look up the meanings to.
As I returned red faced to Ethan he said, "She was sure mad, huh Dad?".
"Yeah, she was, son. Maybe, we should just keep this to ourselves.", I suggested.
We then found a nice quiet hoop to play h-o-r-s-e. I at least got an H on Ethan before I lost. We were now a little tired and sweaty, so we decided to call it an afternoon and go home to eat. I asked Ethan if he had fun. He said, "Yeah, can we do this next Sunday". "Sure, son," I said, "But next time we bring your mom for backup".