Growing Up

On Sunday last weekend, Spencer took the bus home from college through the snowy countryside. We had about six inches of snow on Saturday that made the roads quite a mess.
Spencer came home so he could attend the visiting hours at a funeral home for one of his basketball coaches. The basketball coach was 46 and died of colon cancer. He wasn't the head coach, but an assistant who focused more on teaching the boys how to be honorable men rather than only on winning. He wasn't aggressive enough for some of the hard-core parents. But once high school basketball is over, the lessons he taught are much more important.
Spencer called from the car when Earl picked him up at the bus stop. "Will you have some food ready?" he asked. "I haven't eaten all day."
And, of course, as he does at school, he's lost about 15 pounds this semester.
So I had two plates, one of breakfast, pancakes and bacon; and one of leftover dinner, spare ribs and mashed potatoes.
As he settled into eating, he turned to me and said, "What is his family going to do now that Coach Hall is dead?"
I explained to him about insurance and the teacher's union, and his wife probably has a job.
But that wasn't what Spencer was asking. He didn't focus on the finances of taking care of a family.
"Yeah, but those kids don't have their dad any more," he said.
It broke my heart and made me proud of him all over again.
We live in such a materialistic world, but Spencer saw the important parts.
When he went to the funeral home that night, Grace went with him and she said he made a point of talking with his coach's son, a freshman in high school. Spencer talked with him until he got a chuckle and a little relaxation in his shoulders after standing beside his dad's coffin all day.
I complain about my kids sometimes, but I need to remember that even when they fall off the track of finishing school and getting good jobs, they're good people growing up to be people I'm proud of.

Last Senior Game

Last night was Spencer's final high school basketball game. Unlike a lot of sports that go on to districts or states, the basketball season ends with a loss for almost every team as they get knocked out of the tournament.
Here's a picture of Spencer in the grips of his coach. I'm not sure if it is right after he fouled out with a minute left or as he was going back in to get his last foul.

He's had a love-hate relationship with this coach who left Spencer in for almost the whole game last night to see him score 16 points and pull in 6 rebounds. Nevertheless, the team lost by 6 and is finished for the season.
People stopped me on the way out, exclaiming over Spencer's amazing game.
"He left everything on the court," they said.
"It was obvious he wasn't ready to be finished with the season," another one said.
"Awesome game."
And I felt sad at the end of an era.
At the end of Grace's high school swimming, she still had YMCA swimming to finish that winter and again in the summer before she went to swim in college.
Spencer says he will not play basketball in college. He's finished with coaches and refs who call more fouls on the big guys.
"Basketball will always be part of my life," he said.
And I know he's right because I've watched my brothers compete against each other on the basketball court into their 40s and my dad played basketball into his 70s before a should injury forced him to the sidelines.
So basketball will always be there for Spencer and he has some pretty good high school games that he can point to when he reminisces.

No Rest for the Wicked

I don't mean to complain, which means this already sounds like a complaint, but I just realized that I have only one evening this week where I don't have to be some place.
In the winter, I like to stay home and hibernate, especially in the evenings, so that's a big deal.
Sunday evening, Earl and I went to our ballroom dance class. We're taking the intermediate class this time, so we're a little lost. We came home and shared Brie fondue with the boys.
Monday and Wednesday evenings I teach at 6 p.m.
Last night (Tuesday) was an away basketball game. One of the worst I've seen with our team only scoring 1 point the first quarter. The ball would go in, spin around inside the rim, and pop out. Oh, well. Another evening gone.
Thursday evening is my one night home. I'll spend it cleaning the house because we're having 20 swimmers here on Friday morning for breakfast before they go swim at districts.
After districts all day Friday, we'll go to a basketball game at home Friday night. Then another basketball game Saturday night, which is senior night.
So, rather than complaining about all the to-ing and fro-ing this week, I'll try to savor these waning moments watching my senior play basketball.
I'll cheer on my sophomore swimmer, who broke a school record a few weeks ago and made it to districts in all his events. I'll even cross my fingers that he makes it to states. And if he does, then maybe I'll be posting again next week about how busy things are as I get Tucker to swim practice then drive to northern Ohio for the state swim tournament. But...I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'd better get through the rest of this week first.

Mixing It Up

Maybe it's because I'm always looking at Spencer from below, since he is a foot taller than I am, but his face looks like it's all angles to me. Knobby cheekbones and sharp jawbones. His chin square, like mine and my dad's.
On Saturday, during a basketball game, he went down in a pile of guys scrambling for the ball and managed to wrap his arms around it while signaling time out. The ref blew his whistle and Spencer unfolded to his feet rubbing his cheekbone, which bloomed a bright red. He shook his head a few times, and I worried that he might have hit his head.
"Darn, I should have had that baseline concussion test," I said to my friend Jane.
But after the timeout, Spencer was back in the game.
He told me later that he took a knee to his cheekbone. I took a picture, but it doesn't really capture the skin stretched tight over the bump that formed on his cheek, or the purple that spread under his eye.
His beaten up, angular face was such a contrast to the pictures I looked at last night while searching for shots of him for senior night. As a young boy, he had a round face and giant blue eyes.

Who knows if that round-faced little boy will make an appearance in his face as he ages into his 20s.

And So It Begins...

Sports practices started officially last week and on Saturday I had my first full day of sporting events.
Spencer had a basketball scrimmage at 10:30

It felt good to be sitting in the gym again, even if only four of us parents showed up to watch our boys. In this photo, Spencer is in the navy shirt with the guy in red pushing him.
Then at 1:30, Tucker had a swim meet.

I sacrificed my afternoon of college football to watch Tucker swim.
But, I need to remember that this is my last year of basketball since Spencer is a senior. And I'll only have two more years of traipsing to swim meets since Tucker is a sophomore.
I vow to not complain, but to enjoy every minute of watching my boys play sports this year.

Family Sports Outing

One of my laments in the past has been "not enough family at holidays." This year, they made up for it. Mom and Dad came up from Florida and my brother Craig came from Texas with his 21-year-old son and 16-year-old daughter. They stayed with my other brother, Kevin, in Dayton, but last night everyone came to Columbus to watch one of Spencer's basketball games.
My family is very competitive. They always have been. Both my brothers play tennis so that is their main competition, but they don't limit it. They'll compete with my 74-year-old dad in ping pong, cards, and even who can eat spicier food. Neither of my brothers' sons got into high school sports. I wasn't sure how it would go when they came to watch Spencer play. I was also a little nervous that Spencer might not do well on the one night they were there.

We sat, all 10 of us, in the bleachers watching Spencer give chest bumps to the starters. Spencer didn't start and didn't play for most of the first quarter. I was getting nervous. He usually gets into the game pretty quickly. The coach moves all the Varsity players in and out.
Finally Spencer got a chance to play.
I sat next to my brothers and they talked about offenses and zone defenses that were over my head. When Spencer blocked a shot, sending the ball back to the court, they whooped with glee. Craig kept track of Spencer's stats and typed them into his phone. He yelled loudly to disrupt the other team when they were shooting free throws. My brothers were proud of their nephew, and so was I.
I liked sharing that experience with my family, and realize now that the nerves before hand all have to do with living up to expectations. When it comes to sports, it's pretty much all enjoyable to my brothers and Dad. But it sure would have been worse if Spencer hadn't played well.
He scored 8, blocked 4 and rebounded 6.
I keep picturing my brothers' delight at the game. It's a picture that I replay in my head -- one that will pop to mind when I think about my brothers.

He Dunked It!

When I write about my children, most of the time it is Grace. She's the oldest and experiences new things first. These days, the boys act in unison as surly teenagers. They don't have a lot to say other than "I'm going..." or "Everyone else gets $20 a week for lunches..."
Yesterday when Spencer walked in the door after school and after basketball practice, he announced, "I dunked it!"
He was obviously proud of his accomplishment and he proceeded to give us a play by play.
He had been working on dunking the basketball for awhile. In June he came home and said he had dunked a softball. Softballs are a lot smaller than basketballs so easier to grasp and get above the rim.
One of Spencer's main complaints about the genetics he received is his small hands. His hands aren't really large enough to make palming the basketball easy. I mean, they aren't tiny like that guy on the Burger King commercial who won't eat the big burger because they make his tiny hands look tinier, but proportionately, he doesn't have extra large hands or extra large feet to go with his 6-foot, 4-inch body.
Last month he came home and said he had cut his finger on the rim trying to dunk the basketball, so he was progressing.
At practice yesterday, one of the other guys bet him $5 that he couldn't dunk it. Spencer was allowed three tries to win the bet.
The football team had finished practicing and they filed into the gym to watch the competition.
He missed on his first two tries, running, leaping and slamming the ball into the rim. On the third try, he succeeded, his one hand grasping the basketball and raising high enough to jam the ball through the hoop.
He landed to applause and happily received the $5 pay off.
After dinner and a shower, he dragged his backpack to the couch and sat down, ready to begin studying for a math test.
"I dunked it," he said again. No one new was there to hear him, he just wanted to say it again to make it real.

Images From a Basketball Game

Anyone who knows me, knows I enjoy watching sports and I'm pretty competitive. Last night was just another ordinary basketball game night. Earl got to come to the game since it was his day off. His observation: Spencer has matured on the court.
My impressions:
Long arms like spider monkeys snatching the ball out of the air.
His hands like gecko feet stick to the ball whenever they touch it.
Long loping gallop, ball dribbling beside him as he leaps up for a layup.
The JV won by 30 points, so he sat most of the second half and the boys who don't usually get a chance to play had a turn.
Then the Varsity team comes running out. Spencer has managed to pull on his warm up jersey and run out before the rest of the JV team has even gotten to the locker room.
His white shorts dangle. The strings from the shorts hang out. He holds the shorts in a bunch with one hand and shoots with the other. He lets go of the shorts for just a minute to rebound then grabs them again before they can fall.
The moms in the stands, figure the drawstrings have come out. One mom has a safety pin. Earl had left by that time so I hand it to a dad who isn't afraid of being rebuked by the coaches or the boys. A couple of the coaches and some of the senior boys gather around Spencer. They stand in a circle examining the long strings and the loose shorts.
I laugh and laugh. I wish I had a camera.
The game begins. Within the first few minutes, one of our boys goes down on the floor, sliding along on his butt. His hands are over his face, his eyes watering.
He sits on the bench with an icepack on his face. Then the trainer hands him cotton. He twists it and stuffs it up his nose which swells throughout the rest of the game.
The game ends and long, tall Spencer comes out, the blue strap of his gym bag crossing his chest. Joe accepts a ride from us and the two of them laugh in the backseat about how Spencer co-hosts parties at Joe's house.
We drive through Wendy's to provide Frosties and Baconators.