A Chip off the Old Block

Jack had his first basketball practice tonight.
Our camera is broken.
Never have those two things conflicted so much as tonight.

Jack is the baby. He just turned seven. He's just so, so...special, that it makes my heart hurt. The big brown eyes, the mischevious twinkle in those eyes...his comments, his mind. Jack is just a bundle of energy and looking in his eyes, you can see his wheels in constant motion.

He dressed the part tonight. Actually, he donned appropriate apparel early in the day and continued to refine his basketball look all day. In a very ceremonial gesture, Gable passed down his old high-tops. This, I am certain, completed the look. He also spent much time in the bathtub rubbing his dirty, stained ankles and knees clean for his weekly bath.

Now, as we went into the auditorium, I took a mental note as I sized up the situation. I noted that because I played basketball throughout junior high and high school, AND because I was totally, like, the star (or not), Jack should be at least average with the other boys. Jon's good at any sport, so I figured that if Jack really is half of Jon and half of me (no comments, please), I should have nothing to fear.

I think I began to strut a little.
I may have spit on the sideline.
Is it a sideline in basketball...

Jack looked darn good.

I started to squint and tilt my head a bit a few minutes in. I think half of the team was picking their noses and no, it wasn't Jack. He was too busy picking his shorts out of all the wrong places.

But Jack looked good. After all, he had the shoes. Nike, for Pete's sake.

They began a dribbling drill. Jack's little body bobbed up and down with the ball. He looked like a bird after a good rain, pecking for worms.

But the other boys had troubles too. That ball inevitably found it's way to the tops of their shoes and got away every few dribbles.

When the pinnies came out, the other boys wore theirs over their jerseys. Jack wore his as a skirt. Not a shirt, a skirt.
Jack wore his as a necklace.
Jack wore his as a headress.

But daggone it, he looked the part.

He made shots, dribbled, passed, and in general, made sure everyone was in line correctly. He waved at us every time he did anything or even nothing. He was spectacular.

And he got a number seven jersey - John Elway. All of my boys have had a number seven at some point and they always say, "MOM, I got number SEVEN!"

And for all you gamers , you'll understand and appreciate that halfway through practice, he yelled from one end of the gym to the other,

"I LOST THE GAME!"