Yesterday I spent almost six hours watching my son play high school basketball. More, if you count the time I spent preparing him to play high school basketball, including the haircut and the taxi-cabbing and the sack lunch and the snacks and the gatorade run. Oh, and the IV protein bars. Getting a vein to pump his system full of protein bars takes a lot of precision.
So these particular games were the most intense games my son has ever played. It was head to head rivalry of Clash of the Titans proportions. With a gym packed to rock star capacity, it was standing room only--fans and foes alike filling up the hallways and the aisles and the stairways, insomuch that they did have to set up a big screen projector in the overflow gym to broadcast the game via satellite.
Not to mention the mysterious voice over the loudspeaker, which threatened us periodically that if we left the gym for any reason whatsoever, we would be replaced immediately.
In other words, we were disposible fans.
My hub has alway said that life is like basketball and I think he might be right. Life is serious. And basketball is serious. Very, very serious.
I cannot emphasize enough the seriousness of both life and basketball.
But it doesn't have to be that way. We can all lighten up. Can't we?
May I offer a few suggestions from my own serious life experience that might make basketball a bit more chillaxed? And a bit less confrontational?
1. YOGA. Why not fill the stands to capacity to watch yoga matches? There is no blood in yoga. And the fans most likely won't high five each other and strut around like the Chick-fil-A cow when one of their players sends an opponent to the hospital for 16 stitches--inside and out.
And I may be going out on a limb here, but I bet yoga fans wouldn't chant "CHOKE, CHOKE, CHOKE, CHOKE! at my son if he was at the foul line doing Down Dogs and Sunrise Serenades.
2. REFS. My hub says that when you play the game, you play the refs. That's basketball. And that's life. But if he really believes that, then why, why, why does he yell at the refs until I'm hiding under my seat sucking my thumb?
Could it be . . . Satan?
Or could it be that refs are people too and they have . . . leanings?
They also have power. Power plus leanings is a deadly combination.
Might I suggest implementing a program called Ref Duty, which would operate under the same premise as Jury Duty. Each citizen would be required by law, at gunpoint, to serve as a ref. No excuses! There would be an interview process to ensure there is no vested interest in the outcome of any given game or team.
And to ensure they look good in black polyester.
3. My MIL. If my MIL could be hired out to attend every basketball game on earth, there would be no more aggression in the stands. Mainly because all the aggression would be channeled in her direction. At least in between quarters and at half-time when the gangsta rap music blasts over the loud speaker.
Would you like a preview? Okay, here is my impression of my MIL in between quarters and at half-time:
Performed with extreme animated expression, right in your ear:
Oh Gad, do you like this music? I HATE this MUSIC! Do people really think this music is good? Because this. is. HORRIBLE! HONEST TO PETE! That singer sounds like someone shoved a horse down her throat! Did I mention that I. HATE. THIS. MUSIC?
I hear this a lot during games, that's why I'm so good at repeating it. In fact, technically I hear it, let's see, three times each game x three games = nine, x twice a week =18. Oh, and in between games too, so that's two more times x twice a week = 22.
22 times a week! And that's not including the times I hear it in the car when I'm listening to 103.9.
Anyways, no one will get mad at the refs as long as my MIL is close by! They'll be too busy poking her eyes out!