Some days I just say to myself, “How did we ever do it?” Two teaching jobs, stacks of English papers and two extremely alive and kind of hyperactive kids. “How did I ever survive that time of my life?” As I read some of your posts…I know that you are there right now with a full-time job, trying to juggle, continually heading off the exhaustion with yet another coffee. I do remember one way I was able to do at least part of it. Yes, I will forever be indebted to the Boosters, in the Booster Booth at the high school where my husband taught and coached.
For most of Dave’s career he coached…cross country, basketball and soccer. Not one, but three sports. He coached before we had children so I was accustomed to ‘riding the pine’. I never got in the game, but I was there…always so I could see my husband in action. The love and intensity he put into practicing and games was an awesome thing to behold. We had team parties and I loved getting to know all the ‘girls’ and their parents. He worked them hard and we both loved them.
Then came Em…team baby…we always had a babysitter. Then came… baby big boy Jeff…he was a destructive little monster! We still went to all the games, only now I had to nurse at the half and I spent many nights watching both of them toddle in the foyer; me, I watched from the door. My kids didn’t love to sit on the pine like I did. They liked to do the splits, roll and eat Booster booth food…often. I watched them, of course, but gradually, as the years rolled on, I was able to see more and more of the game. As they grew, I inched my way back on to the ‘pine’. The kids were safe, they were together, with all the other coaches kids…playing their games, singing their songs, and started helping create delicious nacho creations, chile, hot pretzels and popcorn…my friends, the Boosters, were such a help !
Game nights mid- week were so enjoyable for me. I would sit with my friends…yelling, cheering and having fun and so did my kids.
Until that one night, when one of my children escaped from the Booster Booth.
The game was very tight. We were on the free throw line. The gym was quiet, we were waiting for her shot. It was so important for her to make these two shots to put us up in the game by 1 point. String music…she made the first shot. We cheered and it was time for shot number 2. The gym was silenced by the referee. Then I saw it …in slow motion, I saw it… another ball was arching towards the basket, but it was coming from the last row of the bleachers, and not from our player. He was standing there, straight as an arrow, my monster, my four year old wearing his beloved long, Bulls jersey, I knew that he was going for his beloved 3. The errant junior sized ball landed at the referee’s feet close to the basket. He picked it up and bellowed, “Who shot this ball?” Jeff suddenly realized that he had just done the unthinkable. His little four year old body slammed down between the two bleachers, thinking no one could see him, but my Booster friends saw, looked at me and started to laugh.
Dave, the unflappable coach, just looked at the ref and said, “Can we take the shot please? I’ll figure out who that kid was when we look at the tape.”
Our player got on the line again, shot another point, and the game was won.
We saved that tape forever.
Snip snap, snout…this bad little tale is now told out !
March madness…may it continue forever.