All-star baseball continues. Monday night our game ended at midnight. Last night we were done by 9:30 in time to watch the fireworks display beginning just beyond the horizon of right field.
This is from 2004 (and it seems so long ago, now that it’s the summer before our youngest enters high school):
“I’m embarrassed that you’re not embarrassed.†Those were my Beloved’s last words to me before we kissed and went our separate ways this morning.
God love her — she’s outnumbered. Since Megan’s death, it’s been one female and three males in our house (at least when Matt’s home from college).
This morning the issue was Chris’s insistence on wearing his worn-out tennis shoes rather than his new ones to elementary school. The old ones would be rejected by any charitable organization. If we mailed them to sub-Sahara Africa, they’d mail them back. There is not a stitch left on the toes, so they’re basically flip-flops with a lid.
But Chris’s argument is that it’s more important to save the tread on his new tennis shoes for Saturday basketball games. Better to look homeless at school than to take a chance on slipping in an AYBA game.
And it’s an argument I buy. Makes perfect sense to me. Diane looks at me, shaking her head. On one hand she’s upset with me for agreeing with him; on the other hand, she merely pities me for being so shallow.
She just doesn’t understand our priorities.
It’s the same problem we face with trying to explain to her why we keep a basketball goal in the living room to play HORSE. (â€Over the family photos . . . off the wall . . . against the TV . . . nothing but net.â€) Or why we play soccer indoors when it’s cold outside. Or why we always know where our baseball gloves are but can never locate this morning’s paper.
Some day, our 5th grader will be in college. Who will I be able to kick a soccer ball in the living room with then?
For many years one of our bedrooms was a playroom…with a basketball goal…and that is where Keith and buddies first learned to shoot a basket. Yes, there was a broken light fixture…but we cleaned it up. The room also housed a ping pong table at times, a soccer ball to be kicked around, hackey sacks…as well as various quieter games. Then, the boys decided they wanted separate rooms, so the playroom was given to Jimmy. I wouldn’t take anything for the 8 or 9 years that it was a playroom where our sons and their friends could enjoy it without any furniture in the way.
I could tell you a story about whiffle ball in Reeves living room at Knighthaven in Memphis during HGSR years. Seemed like a good idea to us . . . and it wasn’t our fault that lamp got in the way of that little old light weight whiffle ball.
Peace.
Kick it around with Reese, her siblings and cousins.
Reminds me of my freshman year at ACU in Mabee dorm. Playing football in the hallway of 2nd floor, south wing. My friend Mike punted the ball directly into a light fixture, shattering everything in it. That earned him a trip to Dean Linder’s office.
Dean Linder asked him why he kicked the ball into the light fixture. Mike’s reply was “everyone knows you punt on 4th down”.
Made perfect sense to us.
Mike’s now a lawyer in Bryan/College Station.
Having had only girls, I’m with Diane - why???? LOL
My parents always told me not to play ball in the house and when I was in highschool I found out why. I was tossing my basketball up and down when it hit a 15 lb inlaid wood picture which then fell on my head. Within seconds my face was covered in blood, so I stood up walked out to the garage, where my dad was, and said, “Daddy I think I messed up.” He came in and looked at me and said, “I think I need to lay down.” The my step-mom came in with a towel to clean me up. They told me we had to go to the emergency room. I had just gotten my driving permit so I asked if I could drive, they said no.
Anyway, just be careful.
Growing up with a brother, but now having girls, I miss playing ball in the house! My brother and I played nerf baseball in our den with really high ceilings. It’s the only time I could throw a decent curve ball and if you hit the ball into the ceiling fan? Automatic double. Fan interference.
I’m with Diane, too. She’s a more tolerant about it than me, though. Here you’d get “that’s an outside game”, so take it out there.
My brothers and I played nerf basketball in the living room with lampshades as baskets (perfect size and shape in the 60’s and 70’s)…
My roommates and I played wiffleball in our living room at the house on Green Valley (you guys know who you are and who the best left-handed batter was!)…
My son and I(and teenage daughter! - why can’t girls be involved ladies?) play golf in the basement with a plastic ball. It’s a form of horse with a golf club - off the clock, in the basket on top of the cabinet, off your little sister’s head…
It’s a generational, rite-of-passage guy thing…
Charlie, if I remember correctly, the dorm director was standing in the stairwell doorway and watched Mike punt the ball. Yes, Mike could always be counted on for a clever answer in any situation. Funny stuff!
Big brothers and big sisters
Just reading this entry made me cringe. I’m having a hard time trying to make it compute. I feel a panic attack coming on. Poor Diane. We need to work out a trade….your wife for my husband. (You think SHE feels outnumbered?) He hasn’t broken anything in years. I know he wants to. If he brings his own breakables, can he come play?
Mr. I know you don’t know me yet but I have to speak up about something you said.
You have one off in college and your wondering what your going to do in a few years when the nest is empty?
Mr. you’re probably going to have grandchildren before the youngest is gone.
Some of my fondest memories were nerf basketball and indoor football. There’s just something exciting about playing an outdoor sport indoors, until something breaks.
I think a bit of duck tape wrapped a couple of times around that old shoe would give it more “charm” and make it a little easier to walk. All the cool kids are doing it!