Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The SFS Bears

Last week George the Younger's sixth grade basketball team made it to the finals. They were 8-1 heading in to the semi finals. They won their semi-final game in a nail-biting-down-to-the-wire match. They were tied at the half and scored the winning points in the last 50 seconds of the game. Talk about some happy kids when that game was over!

Unfortunately the finals didn't go so swimmingly. They lost miserably. 30-high to 20-low (I am sure George the Younger could tell you the exact score. It will be burned in his memory as only one of those it-was-totally-unfair-they-were-teenagers-and-we-weren't-moments can be).

They played against a team called Live Oak. They shoulda been called Giant Redwoods. These kids were HUGE. They were 7th graders, but according to the league rules they were still allowed to play in the 6th grade division. Still, they were unnaturally mountainous even for 7th graders. Now, I can't say for sure, but I harbor some suspicion that they have some kind of genetic engineering program over there at Live Oak. Perhaps their snacks are laced with highly potent growth hormone. They looked more like our coach than they did our kids. When one of their gargantuan players stood on the line to make his free throw, I saw arm pit hair when he tossed off the shot. And you know what that means? Arm hair = other hair. Our little baldies were playing against bigger kids with willy hair. Uh Oh!

In the end the Bears couldn't adjust their passing game to the immense wing-span of Live Oak and rebounding was like watching 5 Shaq's playing against an opposing team of Lilliputians. It was gruesome. It was fodder for a Brother Grimm story. I suppose there must be some kind of moral here though. I wracked my brain in the car on the way home to try to think of it, some sage wisdom or words of comfort for him. I came up with: Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. How's that for creative insight? Stick to the oldies I always say. I also took him to The Great Steak Escape for dinner. There's nothing like a cheese-steak and a rootbeer to take away the sting of defeat.

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