What a Sport

The season started out like all the others.  Not a great one.  A couple of pretty good players.  But it's not a competitive league.  It's one geared toward kids like my grandson.  He likes to play, but his parents have to force him to join a league.  He doesn't much care for the competition.  When he plays ball at our house he always just wants it to be for fun. 



Yes, their feet are bigger than their heads

 Once he starts in a baseball or basketball league, you can tell he enjoys the interaction and the physical-ness of the sports.  But since he's not that into the sport, he, along with most of the other boys doesn't  always know the right moves to make.

So they lost the first few games.  But I was so impressed with the referees.  When one of the boys would make an error, such as dribbling the ball back and forth over the center line, they would make the call, then bend down, touch the boy on the shoulder and demonstrate what the young boy did wrong. 

All the parents cheer when a boy even on the opposing team makes a great play.  When one little boy tried to argue with the ref he didn't foul a kid, his mother was sitting beside me and yelled out, "Yes YOU did." while she laughed at her son trying to claim innocence. 

As the season progressed, I was even more impressed that the boys became better at how the game was played.  They understood more of the rules, they played more aggressively.  They understood when a foul was called on them what they had done and they accepted it.

We watched the boys getting hard fouls.  They took it in stride.  Our grandson was accidentally kicked in the face.  He shook his head a second, took off back down the floor and only rubbed his cheek now and then.  It had to hurt.  I saw him skid along the carpeted basketball court and get up and run.  His leg had a nice rug burn at the end of the game but he never complained.  These boys are learning to play and learning taking a tumble, learning that the world doesn't stop if you get bruised up while playing a fair game.

His team began winning.  I don't think he's ever been on a winning team before.  There are always a couple of very good players on the teams, usually the coach's sons. 

Yesterday afternoon was the first playoff game.  The competition was much more intense.  But it was good to watch the boys play with gusto.  Of course, we've been more impressed as we've watched our grandson fight for the ball instead of running off it was heading in another boy's direction. 

The game was close, especially toward the end.  More parents were yelling when some of the hard fouls weren't called, but it remained just a fair, competitive game.

Until the last 15 seconds.

My grandson's team (# 17)  was up by 3.  It seemed unlikely the other team would win.  Team 17 had the ball at their end of the court, the one closest to us.  The boys were playing.  Hard.  The ref called a foul on the other team.  I realized then that a couple of the boys right in front of us were finally getting mad.  There was just a quick little scuffle which I only realized because I could see them square off and I saw the other team's player's face as he glared at the boy.  They separated a couple of feet and I was just beginning to joke with the guy beside me by telling him there was almost a fight right there.

That's when I realized that suddenly there was a tall man, probably over 6 foot who ran in between the boys.  He bent down and began to scream at this 10 year old boy from our team.  He was the assistant coach of the opposing team.

For a couple seconds everyone sat there in shock.  I've seen this stuff on TV, but never right in front of my eyes.  The crowd around me all began to yell at the coach.  We were screaming, "Leave him alone.  He's a KID." 

My grandson's coach ran from the bench and inserted himself between the boy and the other coach.  He literally had to push this bastard back from the kid.  By then every parent in the place was yelling at the assistant coach.

I don't know what happened to the refs. 

Finally the coaches were off the floor and the poor kid was shaking.  The parents began to tell him it was okay, to shake it off.  There was a missed free throw and last second rebound and final shot to win the game. 

Normally I stay by the bleachers as we wait for my grandson to come over, but I realized that the assistant coach was just walking over by his area as if nothing had happened.

I started his way. 

I could almost hear Bob's imaginary voice telling me not to make a scene, but by then I had flames coming out of my ears.  I watched some lady walk up to this guy and I wasn't sure if it was his wife or someone else.  I could see her making some hand movements that suggested he had been out of line,, just swipes of her hands.  He was shaking his head at her as I made my way over.  It was the little boy's mother.

I didn't yell, but I was HOT,  "YOU, owe that little boy an apology."  He said in a snotty voice, "NO I don't."  I told him he did.  Told him it was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen.  I made myself aware that I could NOT call this "man" the filthy names I wanted to call him.  It took every ounce of energy to make sure I didn't say anything inappropriate just in case there were kids within earshot.

As I started walking away, I see my step-daughter leave her family and storm her way toward the man.  I knew he was in for a tongue lashing.  Then her husband started that say.  By then, I can hear her screaming at the man, "HE'S A LITTLE KID." 

Apparently his excuse was that the boy had sometimes glared at him at other games. 

Then I see Bob heading that direction. Bob, who never gets involved was also on a mission.   Bob tried to explain to him how unsportsmanlike his actions were.  I was trying to get the grandkids away at this point and the guy storms off.

I couldn't help myself.  I yelled at him as he turned, "Whaddya gonna do next, beat up little girls?"

I noticed the refs all sitting in the corner, so I went over to them and talked with them a little.  I told them that any adult that acted like that toward a child needed to be ejected from the building immediately.  One of the young refs began to tell me about some incident that happened the week before but was interupted when the coach of the other team came over to shake the refs hands.  I looked at him, pointed to his assistant coach and told him that guy was a bully and should never be allowed to be around children.

Several people went over to the boy during this time and began to explain to him the assistant coach was out of line.  I shook the boy's hand, told him he did a great job.  His eyes were filled with tears.  The mom kept thanking everyone who was consoling the boy.

By the time the gym was cleared all of us were so upset that a grown man would not only lose control at a little boy on the opposite team, but then try to justify his actions that we couldn't see straight.

When I got home, I located the club that organized the league.  I emailed them the account of the incident.  Within an hour the athletic director emailed me back, said she had heard about another incident the week before and that she would be calling the commisioner that afternoon.

I can tell you this as a fact.  If that ass had confronted my grandson like that, I would be posting this from jail and that man would be having surgery extracting his testicles from his throat.

There would have been blood.  Lots of it.