It's no secret that I'm not big into sports (to the great and everlasting disappointment of my parents). But I do try to support my boys when they play. Paul and I don't exactly have super athletic genes to pass on, but we like for our kids to pursue their individual interests. This year, Cort decided to play basketball.
Basketball is definitely not one of my interests. But I supported Cort and got him signed up. His team is not very good, and if they were keeping score (which they don't for 5 and 6 year olds), his team would have lost every game so far. The good part about not really liking a sport is that you don't care one way or another if your kid's team wins - you just want him to have fun playing.
Even though I don't care for basketball, and Cort has never made a single game shot, I've found that I enjoy the games. This was surprising to me. But the games are kind of funny. The kids are all so tiny, and sometimes have no idea what to do. Other times, the boys and girls (it's a coed team) are hilarious in their blocking of the other team - it's like some crazy chicken dance that they do around one another.
By far the best part of the game is the community. The games take place in an older school in the county seat. You know the type - cracked, worn floors and tarnished, dark halls. We live in such a rural county that often grandparents and neighbors and friends show up to cheer for these kindergartners and first graders for the full forty-five minutes of a game. Paul and I often cross paths with someone we know from the other team, and enjoy catching up with them briefly. If any single kid gets a goal, it's often the parents/grandparents/friends/neighbors from both teams who let up a huge cheer, and it makes me smile every time.
Without a doubt, I love these mountains and I love the sense of community at these tiny basketball games, stuffed with full bleachers. Basketball? Maybe it's not so terrible after all.