Is basketball … HEAVEN?

Is basketball … HEAVEN?

First game. There they go. They’re totally doing the astronaut walk.

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Little dudes/ette need a theme song.

I’m getting him stilts for his next game.

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He stuck to the person he was guarding like glue. I’ve never seen anything like it. That guarding thing is the sole reason I hated playing basketball. Well, that and the running back and forth chasing I don’t know what. And shooting layups. And the knee socks.

Well. Truth be told, I only played sixth-grade basketball, and we had to play in our jeans because it was a private school and we couldn’t show any leg. I was awful. My Goldfish is not.

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He’s on the bottom right. Number 3. But you can’t see the number 3 right now.

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He didn’t even concern himself with rebounding, because he was guarding, by gosh.

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They look like they’re playing basketball in Heaven. All that pearly white everywhere, like bouncing on clouds.

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The Terror did what he does best. Terrorized. And ate cheese.

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And then we nearly lost him on the court. Oy.

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I love their little legs and feet. I’m excited to see him grow, but part of me mourns that this day, every day, is so fleeting.

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Look at him, just fighting for that ball. He doesn’t know how to give less than everything he is. I admire that in him.

See that photo on the right? I actually yelled, “Jump ball!!” But wouldn’t you know it, they don’t do jump balls at this age.

That was the only part I did like about playing basketball in the horrible sixth-grade. That part didn’t mess up my femullet.

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His coach is probably telling him, “Don’t worry that your mom is crazy. We all have one of those.”

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Doing the side shuffle, baby. He rocks the side shuffle. Check it.

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You know it. Even when everyone else is dropping like flies, he’s leaping over them all in one huge side shuffle.

This next pic is classic Goldfish. I actually saw butt cheeks here. And as a bonus, I got the coach looking like he’s being exorcised. Either that, or he needs to go the bathroom. Perfect.

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We all had to regroup after that display. Nothing can quite prepare the spectators OR coaches for 5YO butt.

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Jazz hands!

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And, um, who is this kid?! He was all over the ball. I think he’s 11. He dribbled low and in control and I swear I saw him do that through the legs trick.

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Showing how to hustle. And how to be sweaty. And stinky. Oh, and can you find the Terror Toddler in this pic? Look left. He’s disguised as a dust mop.

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They’ve got some squirrelly moves, don’t they? I can’t tell if they’re just moving to move or they need to go the bathroom.

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Teammates, waiting for the sign to attack.

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Oh boy. Leaping side shuffle, watch out.

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Well now they’re all just showing off.

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I’m pretty sure that this is what his first school dance is going to look like.

I’m totally signing up to chaperone that sucker.

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Get down witchu bad self.

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I don’t even know what to say about this one.

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But this pic? Oh man. This play nearly undid our boy. See the fella in blue almost throwing an elbow?

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This is what happened next. When a fighting-back-tears-of-frustration-Goldfish got back to the bench, he said in a cracked voice, “He’s NOT SUPPOSED TO PUSH. Coach said WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO PUSH.”

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Oh my heart.

And he would not listen to the truth about basketball. There is pushing. There’s leaning. There’s messing with people. But nope. He had heard a rule, and by golly that boy broke it.

Took us nearly the rest of the day to recover, but a little Nutella on a strawberry did the trick.

Hey, it always shines a little sun on my day, too.

And here’s the last pic of basketball in Heaven.

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I dig the big huge skylights in the gym. Makes for a nice airy feeling, yes?

Oh, and even though they don’t keep score at this age (What the?! I don’t understand it. Moronic.), he had a great time and left feeling like a winner, albeit a pushed around winner. He had a blast, and that’s all I need to know.

I think I’ll have the Terror grow a mullet. Total homage to my sixth grade basketball career.

I think he could pull it off, in a Joe Dirt-ay kind of way. Don’t you?

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