One of the greatest benefits of being a mother is the amount of unbelievable comedic material you witness, usually with no one else around. I might have previously mentioned, in another post floating around somewhere in cyberspace, that some things are too ridiculous to recreate or retell: you just had to be there. But indulge me to retell one that makes me love my son Miles (almost 12) in a tremendous way.
Miles has inherited, somewhere in our soupy mix of DNA, an ineptitude for sports which is completely overshadowed by his sunny, positive personality. It's a remarkable combination that saves Miles from a world of hurt and is one of his best qualities.
Miles is on a basketball team and he's the shortest and is not at all aggressive. His teammates rarely pass the ball to him, and when they do, he makes his best effort to shoot, but in his 3 years of playing, has never made a basket (scored a goal? See, I'm really no help to him here.) But he doesn't care. He runs up and down the court, following the ball with a smile on his face. He's super excited when his teammate makes a basket and cheers for them and jumps up and down if they win. He's in there--he's doing it, you know? And he loves it. But when kids reach this age, the parents, especially the fathers, get really "into" it, I'm sure because they love it in a way I don't understand. Even though these boys are, I guess, past the age of just "playing to have fun," I'm not ready to give up that ideal, and neither is Miles, so it's okay with us.
So on Saturday, during the game, as the team parents are yelling and cheering the 11 and 12 year-old boys, and Topher is reading his Kindle. (In his defense, he reads it ONLY when Miles isn't in the game, because Topher hates few things more than basketball, which, I'm sure is a result of his youth experience with school and church ball, but that's a blog for another time. . .) Miles is defending this kid on the other team and he gets right past Miles, shoots, and scores. Miles then turns to the fully-invested parents of his team and says, in all seriousness "I take full responsibility for that!" smiles, and runs down the court to try again. Only one dad laughs.
How can you not adore a kid like that?
I feel a sort of deja vu around Miles because he reminds me of Chris Clark in jr. high. He is very great and you are a good mom.
ReplyDeleteI seriously love that kid. I'm also still banking on your idea of making sure I tell my kids when they head to BYU "Whatever you do, do NOT date those Clark boys". . .Please, please, please let them get married.
ReplyDeleteHaving raised my own sports-hormone-deficient family, I LOVE Miles's attitude and hope he's able to retain it in the face of adolescent pressures.
ReplyDeleteOh my, I so hope my son has this same outlook when he starts playing sports! Even I didn't have that sunny attitude when playing basketball in 6th grade. My friends and I named ourselves "The Six Seasonal Sisters"...rather than delve into the myriad of reasons why that name makes no sense, lets just say after the one game we lost I pouted for a week.
ReplyDeleteI love kids that have attitudes like that, and pray that my girls find a husband just like that one day! (After they are 30 of course!) I have musical girls who love to play everything and are not blessed to be good at any sports activity. My sweet little twelve year old has been on the track team the past two years and come in last place in every event. She smiles and keeps trying. I love it when they are genuinely happy for others who are good!
ReplyDeleteAwesome story. I'm really sorry that only one Dad laughed though. That's what makes me fear more for my kids in their future sports endeavors...the parents, not the kids.
ReplyDeleteI would have laughed.
ReplyDeleteI love this story for two reasons:
ReplyDelete#1 - I am totally going to be that Dad reading my Kindle. I hate basketball more than no dessert, but openly hope my kids will like it and be good at it since they will be 1 million feet tall. Better to be the 6'9" Bball star than the 6'9" tuba player.
#2 - Why are parents so agressive about sports? I don't get "being competitive." I remember when Jonah was 3 (3!!!) and in a soccer sports camp where basically a bunch of 3 years run around and might kick a ball once or twice in the whole 45 minutes. There were no "games" involved - it was more about familiarity. There was a mom there that would chase her son up and down the field and yell, "C'mon Riley! Get that ball!! Be agressive!!"
sigh.
Oh how I wish I were at that game.
ReplyDeleteWhat a keeper!
I will say this: the dad who laughed REALLY laughed. He laughed for about two minutes. It was awesome. I like that guy.
ReplyDeletean absolutely perfect story-what a kid
ReplyDeleteWhat a cool kid! He must have cool parents. :)
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