You can probably guess that "speechless" is not a word often associated with me, but tonight, I was speechless. I was texting like a crazy person, but was incapable of speaking. It might be considered a sign of the apocalypse.
But, don't quote me on that.
Today was N's next to last basketball practice, and I really didn't want to go. I won't lie. I even gave him the option: basketball practice or going to Target. Surprise, surprise, he picked practice. Traitor. Actually, though, I'm really glad we went because I would've never believed what I'm about to say unless I'd heard it with my own precious little ears.
You'd think, coming off of a win on Saturday, that the coach would be congratulatory or praise them a little for making progress. Right? Ha. No way. He started talking to them about when they're shooting free throws, and he said (direct quote, mind you), "When you're lined up for free throws, he (the ref) can't watch all of you at the same time, so I want you to start moving for the rebound before the ball hits the rim." My jaw dropped, and one of the kids yelled, "You aren't supposed to move before the ball hits the rim." and he said, "I know that. I don't care. I'm the coach for a reason."
You're the coach because nobody else signed up to do it...I was torn: do I laugh because he's an obvious moron and seemingly can't help it, or do I punch him in the face as I drag N out of practice because he's not playing for a cheater? It gets better...the assistant coach (he's a yeller...and a spitter) pulls N aside and starts telling him he needs to shoot more and get the ball more. N, who was "blessed" with the temper of both his mother AND father, starts to go off saying, "I would if your son would pass the ball sometimes." I'm pretty sure my snort was audible. The truth hurts, dude. After that, they had a water break, and I told N, "I don't care what he says to you, just acknowledge him, say you understand, and then you don't have to do it...not if you think/know it's wrong. But you still need to be respectful because he's an adult, even if he is a moron." See? Mom of the Year is totally within my reach!
At this point, the coach was getting frustrated because the boys weren't running the drill the way he was telling them to, which is understandable because he kept changing what he wanted them to do, mid-drill, and NOT saying anything about it. SO, he sat them all down and started giving them a speech, saying, "If you guys don't start winning, I'm going to feel like a failure, and that's on you because I'm giving you the tools you need to win. You're just not listening or paying attention."
Jaw drop number 2. And it just keeps getting better...They start calling out two kids who have obviously never really played basketball before. Maybe it's a cultural thing, or maybe they just never expressed interest before, but these two boys struggle. They struggle, but they don't give up. And the coaches? They call them out every single time they're on the court. If it had been my kid, I would've gone off.
I considered going off just on principle. I'm due for a good public rant. One of the kids gets obviously flustered when he has the ball and forgets to dribble. It takes practice, I get it. Coach of the Year? Not so much. "Can you even dribble the ball? Stop everyone. We're going to watch __________ dribble the ball, just to make sure he can do it."
What. The. Hell.
Thankfully, practice was nearly over at this point, because I was just shaking my head in dismay...but to end the evening, the assistant coach left the boys with some words of wisdom.
"The guy who has the ball has the right of way, like when you're driving a car, you know? Like when you're exiting the highway, you have to yield on the exit ramp to the cars that are on the access road..."
What? I caught the coach's eye on that one, and I couldn't help myself. "Um, excuse me. 1. They're 10. They know nothing about driving a car, so I think that's a poor analogy. 2. The access road yields to the exit ramp, not the other way around."
I received a round of applause from the guy who was there to lock up the school after we left, and from my own child. The "head coach" also snorted and agreed.
Probably, basketball won't be an option unless I know ahead of time who the coach will be and I approve. Read: Unless he ends up with his baseball coach from last fall, it will only happen if his dad coaches, I coach, or someone else I know (and trust) coaches. Read: It's probably not happening.
In other news, I got a call from the school nurse today to come get B at 10:00. He sounded seal-like and croupy, so after a solid hour of steam, albuterol nebulizer treatments, vaporub, and barking like a seal, he was calmed down enough to eat. Like a horse. He sat as still as possible for B, watched part of a movie, and rolled all over me. This is the part where I explain that I prayed to God it wasn't strep or anything contagious, as he is notorious for sharing his germs.
His stepmom came to get him to take him to the doctor, since we were unsure if he was contagious and/or if N would be exposed to something that he could catch. A normal person's nasal cavity is supposed to be pinkish, maybe a little red if they're fighting an infection. B, with his crazy allergies and asthma, was rocking a lavender nasal cavity. He has to spend the next three days at home, being as still and quiet as possible (go ahead and start laughing now) while taking a steroid. This is going to be quite the week.
So, if you see me or get a call from me where you don't understand what I'm saying or it doesn't make any sense, have no fear. I've just gone off the deep end...or maybe I've made a super long straw to reach down to the very bottom of my Sailor Jerry bottle.
For now, though, I have to figure out exactly what I'm going to say when I call tomorrow to turn N's coach in because, all Coppell politics aside, there is absolutely no rhyme or reason for promoting cheating during a 10 year-old's rec league basketball games.
Warpath much?
Aubs
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