
(from Tamie)
I know, with all certainty, a very few things about myself. I can rest assured that whatever bank drive-through lane I select, it will be the slowest. Count on me being the last to finish any meal. And if there are names to be remembered, I'll forget them.
But I never dreamed that I would be one of those people who gets into a brawl with another parent in the stands at a basketball game.
The moms of the Sharks, we are a helpful bunch. We chip in. Calculating the ratio of girls on the basketball court (10) to the number of referees (2) we figure the folks in black-and-white need us to help officiate. They can't possibly see all the violations that we catch in the stands. So we help them out, and we have done this since we graduated from dot ball to competitive play last fall. And bearing in mind that our babies are 7 and 8, playing girls as old as 10 - some of whom we have noticed wear training bras and undoubtedly shave their legs.
"That was traveling!" one mom will call out.
"Reach!" another will offer.
Of course, all this is intermingled with lots of "good jobs" and "you can do its" and "if they elbow you, elbow them right backs". But mostly the first two. The moms weren't talking to the refs, weren't talking to the other players, just calling the game. Feminine Jimmy Valvanos, that's what we are.
Last Saturday, one of the moms on the opposing team came in and sat on our section of bleachers. And she became pretty unhappy with us, to the point of inviting one or more of us outside to discuss how insulted she was. With her fists.
I have never been in a girl fight, so I was a little slow to understand that she wasn't asking me to stroll out with her to the snack stand for some peanut M&M's.
But once I did, I laughed. Big mistake! Laughing made Mad Mom even madder!
So what should I have done to diffuse the situation, besides walking out with my cell phone in hand, 9-1 pressed firmly so that the final 1 could save me if need be? And does it involve keeping my mouth shut?
1 comments:
Hey Loudmouth:
I know where you live, and I'm going to punch your brains in next time i see you! You understand me!? You're going down!
-- Big Bertha (Jane's mom)
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