Today is Saturday. On Saturdays, I wake up earlier than I’d like, try to find everyone halfway-matching outfits by frantically digging through the six foot pile of clean clothes I never get around to folding, scream at the kids to shovel their cold breakfast in their mouths, load up the Swagger Wagon and head to church with a forced smile on my face to watch Flea’s basketball game.
This Saturday was not much different, other than the fact I actually got there on time. I only live two minutes from my church but I sware it doesn’t help my punctuality. In fact, I think it makes it worse. I constantly think, “It will only take me two minutes to get there”, leave at the last possible moment and end up getting there with thirty seconds to spare.
I hate to wake up earlier and hate swimming in unfolded laundry even more, but I really do love watching my boys play sports. I was never a big sports fan, until I had sons. Now, I’m a borderline-crazy-yell-at-the-officials-kind-of-Mom.
In fact, I often have to be censored by loving family members when Little League starts. I’ve try to harness my obnoxiousness, but there’s just something about the look of the freshly mowed diamond, the sound of the cracking bat and the smell of the overcooked hot dogs that turns me into a raging lunatic. Over the past season or two, I’ve learned to contain myself more than ever before but the one thing which still brings out the crazy in me at the ballpark is a cocky opposing coach. Ooohhh…it just burns me up.
Apparently, my title doesn't extend past Psycho BASEBALL Mom because it is very clear Hubbit is a Psycho BASKETBALL Dad. I’ve always said one secret to our happy marriage is the fact we balance each other out in amazing ways and I suppose this is another example. After all, we BOTH can’t get kicked out of every game. Someone has to REPRESENT!
The funny thing is, while we’re complete and total opposites in every imaginable way, Hubbit and I are provoked by the same thing when it comes to our childrens’ sporting events...cocky coaches.
A few weeks ago, Flea’s basketball team played a team with a real “winner” for a coach. The bad part was, he also acts as a referee in the league. On this specific game day, he basically walked off the court after the previous game ended, changed his shirt from the well-known black and white stripe pattern to his team colors, gave the incoming refs a high five and hit the sideline, ready to coach.
Unfair, what?!
Throughout the game, he pouted, he stomped and he cried his way to get extra fouls called. It was ridiculous to see a grown man do such a thing. I was a little embarrassed for him. But, not Hubbit. No, Hubbit was TICKED.
Due to the fact this cocky coach was also a ref, it appeared he was getting his way MUCH more often than Hubbit thought was fair. So, Hubbit stands up and starts cursing and yelling insults his way. Hubbit starts insulting the officiating refs, insulting the opposing coach and even telling Flea to knock down the other players, so the ref could call “at least one honest foul”. There are no bleachers in the church gym, just chairs surrounding the court. Thus, when someone 6'5 stands up and spreads his arms out like a giant Pterodactyl, it doesn't go unnoticed. Nope. Everyone noticed.
Of course, it would be no big deal...if we weren’t in a CHURCH LEAGUE.
Geez.
Of course, Hubbit wasn’t the only one ticked off that day. Flea’s coach and her husband were also stomping on the sidelines, unsatisfied with the officiating. Yes, I said HER. Flea’s coach is a female. Not only is she a bad-in-a-REALLY-good-way coach but she’s also a Hottie Tottie. The boys listen to her like no other, work hard to seek her approval and have learned amazing basketball skills. She knows her stuff...FO’ REAL.
Fortunately, a few minutes into the ranting he freakishly spews out on Saturday mornings from 9am to 11am, he realized his obnoxiousness and ushered himself out of the gym without being thrown out by the refs. Thanks to his maturity (aka Old Age + Daily Cocktail of Calming Meds), he settled himself down and returned a different man.
Unfortunately, Flea’s coach wasn’t so lucky at today's game. I’m not completely certain why, but Hubbit and I have noticed the refs are ALWAYS really unfair to her team. No one else’s. Just hers.
As usual, the refs were being insanely hard on the team and apparently Hottie Tottie must have stomped one too many times on the sidelines in her fashionable Uggs, because she got herself a technical...in a CHURCH LEAGUE. Not only did this mean she had to tone down her normally very entertaining (and highly effective) sideline coaching methods, but it also means she can’t coach at the next game.
Who knew there’d be so much drama in a league where they PRAY before each game?!
The good news for the boys is, her even-hotter-and-closer-to-their-age-teenage-daughter will be taking her place as the coach for the next game. It's crazy! Their family is like the Swedish Bikini Team...only for basketball!
The funny this is, their team is the best one in the league. After all, nothing motivates a bunch of pre-teen boys like a hot blonde screaming at them. Boys may become men, but some things never change!
Whitney
“The trouble with referees is that they just don't care which side wins.” (Tom Canterbury)
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