Monday, October 25, 2010

I Cry "Foul"

Youngest has a high school girl as his basketball coach this year. No parents -- Pete and I included -- stepped up to say, "Oh, let me coach." We've got an excuse, really: we know absolutely nothing about how to play basketball. I don't know that any of the other sets of seven parents of kids on the team can say the same. But most have older or younger children who vie for attention or their jobs preclude them from making the commitment or pick any excuse from a long list of excuses.


Yesterday, Pete took Youngest to his game. Curiously, and without explanation before or after her arrival, the coach didn't arrive until half-time. So guess who "coached" that first half?


Pete.


I'm pretty sure he knows five kids play on each team at a time. And I'm pretty sure he knows that the object is to get the basket into that circular netted thingie at the end of each side of the court. I know he knows what a "court" is.


Other parents have far more experience and knowledge of the game, but, according to Pete, no one offered to help or do diddly.


Except at one point when a mother marched across the court from the stands to the side where the players sit, went up to Pete and sternly instructed him how to place the kids in free throw situations. And then she marched back to her place in the stands.


Seriously? That's what you can bring to the party? Unsolicited instructions and no offer of providing any help whatsoever.


Um, thanks.

1 comment:

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

And this is why I'm hoping my three get interested in chess club and not organized sports. People suck.

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