Yesterday was the official conclusion of basketball season for George and Ben. Of course the boys could play year round if we would let them, but we prefer to act like mean parents and force our kids do things like have free time, play outside in nature, and *gasp* contribute to family life by doing chores and entertaining each other while Steve and I sit by the fire with a glass of wine and pretend we're alone.
I admit, though, I'm always a bit sad whenever a sports season comes to an end. I don't miss the hauls back and forth to practices, but I do miss watching the boys making memories out on the court. I'm so thankful that they inherited their father's hoop skills. My early days of basketball consisted of running out of the locker room with my shorts on backwards and dribbling feverishly down the court for the game winning lay-up....at the wrong basket. A couple of intensive camps and countless hours outside at the bucket every summer helped polish up my less-than-lustrous skills, but I never became anything more than an average player.
My man? Oh, that Athlete of the Year award that's polished on the wall? Yeah, that be his.
Benedict and George both had winning seasons this year, and both had a GREAT time from season start to finish.
So, without any knowledge of the game, let alone having even dribbled a ball, he jumped right in with a bunch of boys whose skills far surpassed his and fearlessly played right along with them.
His team earned first in the league and second and the season tournament finale.
George's journal entry for today was about basketball. Here's what he wrote:
I love playing defense at basketball. My friends pass the ball to me, but I am always covered by three guys and am forced to pass it. Once I get the ball, I keep trying, but I have to pass. I can shoot free throws, and I also really like to support my team. But, most of all, I like to box out strong like Will Spradling for K-State.
How do the younger brothers feel about a future in basketball??
Charlie dreams of being the next Marcus Foster.
Hanging out with the 11th percentile gang on the growth chart probably won't garruntee him a post position, but little guys have to dream big, right?
Henry (left) and his buddy Lane debating over who will be first to dunk it.
It's gonna be a close one!