I used to love basketball then I hated it. Now, I think I like it again.
Hmmm…maybe I should back up a bit and explain.
I grew up in New Hope, Minnesota with my older sister and my parents. Because there were only the two of us and we were both girls I thought that maybe just maybe my dad was a bit disappointed he didn’t have a boy he could play sports with and do guy-things with. Ya know, like spitting and swearing and burping. All of which I have mastered and would like to thank my dad for helping me to win all of the burping contests I now have with my own children. I think I was in the third grade when I decided I would try to be as son-like as I could be and not just the burping. I watched The Six Million Dollar Man and Mission Impossible with him; I went to Twins games and Vikings games with him. And let me just say, the Vikings games were NOT in the Metro-dome as they are today; they were in a stadium. Outside. In December. It was freakin cold but I loved every minute of it. I used to have this gigantic yellow coat (I think my dad bought it because it was a Viking’s color.) and he would pin an enormous Vikings pin on my head and think I was so cute. We got to bond and have fun and I loved thinking I was being his pseudo-son and somehow giving him that. It turns out; he just liked hanging out with me.
I also decided in between all of my ballet and tap classes, I would join a little baseball team too. To be honest, that wasn’t for my dad. There was this really cute boy who was playing on one of the teams. Yep, even back then…
I did, for awhile, harbor desires to be the short stop for the Minnesota Twins. No boy issues, I actually liked to play. It was fun and you got to wear cleats. I loved hearing my dad cheer for me. I felt I could really be a boy-like-princess for him. Little did I know that when I competed in dance contests in my pretty little costumes with sparkles and fringe on them, he cheered just as loudly and with as much pride.
During the winter in Minnesota, there were pretty much two team sports: basketball and hockey. Now, any true Minnesotan will tell you of the good old days of The North Stars hockey team who now reside in Texas. Sad, sad world when the most northern contiguous state doesn’t have a hockey team. Back in the 1970’s during winter, my sister or my neighborhood friends and I would make the cold trek to Liberty park to go ice skating and would occasionally get roped into playing hockey with the neighborhood boys who never had the foresight to have enough people to play on two separate teams. They would usually put me on the really good team and let me play defense which allowed me ample time to practice my back crossovers on the ice. I was terrible at skating forward so I perfected the backwards part. I never truly got into hockey. I mean the players were cute but they were missing teeth and had that odd mixture of being sweaty and cold. Well, not all of the time, but that very distinctive scent lingers, let me tell ya…
Then there was basketball. I never got into it as a child. I did play on a team in 6th grade, but I sucked. Seriously, too short to even get it near the basket. I must say my affinity for Converse high-tops was born but I can find shoes to match anything, even sports.
As I grew up, I kinda just stuck with the individual sports like diving and gymnastics and then I was a dancer too. I let my dreams of professional baseball go although my youngest nephew is an awesome baseball player so I have made a request that he become a professional baseball player when he grows up. He said that he would do his best to play for the Twins someday, just for me. I like that kid.
Alright, now I’m going to reveal something about myself that is quite astonishing and I don’t tell very many people. It’s not that I am embarrassed by it; it’s just something from my past. It is something I loved being a part of that isn’t the most feminist of decisions. I think I started hiding it when I took all of those Woman Studies classes in college. Okay…I (gulp) was a cheerleader. Actually, in my junior year, I was captain of the basketball cheerleaders. I am not ashamed of it. I loved those guys. I cheered my brains out and no, that is not a euphemism for anything. I don’t think I actually dated anyone on the basketball team. Scanning…scanning…nope, not that I remember.
In 1984, the Robbinsdale Cooper high school Basketball team went through an entire season and I think they won like, two games. I may be being generous here as we always seem to romanticize the past. The thing was they were not a bad team. Each game they played went into overtime. EVERY GAME. Sometimes double overtime. They would just tie and then the other team would win by 2 points. EVERY GAME. It was depressing and awful and on away-games nothing could make the overly tall boys feel any better on the bus ride home. Damn, maybe I should have dated a few of them…
The point is, the games were horrible to cheer for. I mean, we looked cute in our little orange and blue short and twirly uniforms (who picks school colors anyway? Seriously?). But the fun ended there. We would scream and yell our guts out and cheer our little cheers thinking it would inspire them to win but nope. It was just painful. I decided after that season, I was done with basketball. It was just too hard to watch. Then I moved to LA and learned to despise basketball in earnest. Sorry Lakers fans, but watching felons dribble a ball down a court while Jack Nicholson cheers them on, sorry, not for me. Just because the Lakers are originally from Minnesota doesn’t mean I have to have allegiance to a team I have no desire to watch. Plus the whole season is just ridiculously long. There is the regular season and then playoffs are to the same length as the regular season. Then if they win the whole championship thing the fans trash the city. Yeah, I really want to participate in that. Maybe if the players still wore the cute shorts from the 1970’s I might consider it. Doubtful.
Fast forward a few decades (maybe a little more) post high school when my own little boys want to join Junior Lakers basketball at the YMCA. They really need some team sports considering they are being raised by a single mother who doesn’t really follow sports and we live very far away from all of the sport loving male role models in their lives. No one to teach them to shoot, throw, dunk or anything else you can do with a ball.
The season started at the beginning of June and at the beginning neither of them could even get the ball near the basket. One of my fabulous babysitters is a basketball couch so she began working with them one-on-one and they have improved exponentially. They love going to the Y on Saturdays in their purple and white uniforms, ready to kick some booty. Dash’s team (in the 5-6 year division) plays half court and most of the time the coaches just stand on the court yelling, “No! Go the other way!” They don’t get called for travelling and although Dash has a tendency to get a little distracted and dances a little during the game, he has gotten much better at playing. Yesterday he stopped in the middle of the game and did the robot. The bad thing about their games is that every single game at least one kid gets smacked in the face with the ball and cries and then refuses to play again for the rest of the game. But they do come back the next game ready for more. Cutest little troopers ever.
Max’s games are a little different. They are in the 7-8 year old division and there are some kids who are really good. Max almost made a basket during the game yesterday. He has grown so much as a little player and tries so hard. I am so proud of him. The games are full court and I am amazed how much I yell and cheer for the team while they play. I hear myself yelling “defense” and at the right time too. Like, all of sudden I remember this stuff from years ago. And then I realize, I am enjoying the game and cheering and loving it and jumping up and down when we win. The boys are having fun and learning team building stuff and getting some exercise, plus they have gained an new affinity for Converse high-tops. It’s all comes back to the important things in life.
Don’t get your hopes up; I still refuse to participate in the whole Lakers thing in LA. I will stick to the Junior Lakers and be done with it.
And as for my dad wanting sons: My sister and I have made him five grandsons (because we can only grow penises) and he seems pretty happy about that because he has a whole new crop of kids to teach to spit and swear and burp. Of course, I had taught my boys that already…
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