Boys And Their Sports

Sister was obsessed with the Knicks of the late '60's and early '70's, but she was the only girl I knew who really followed a sports team. The boys, however, were fanatics.

My Firefighter Cousin lived and died with the Yankees and the Rangers.  As the decades passed, his ardor cooled, but he still knows the stats and the players.  Zaydeh stopped watching baseball when the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn, but my memories of watching black and white games with him are as vivid as any childhood images I can conjure.  

Daddooooo didn't play team sports, and since it wasn't all about him he never got caught up in the drama of televised games.  But he'd watch anything, as long as he could kibbitz.

SIR is just back from Talladega.  NASCAR doesn't attract his wife nor the rest of her side of the family, but he and his parents bond over loud cars making left turns for hours (Little Cuter's description of the one race she attended).  

SIR is a multi-sport enthusiast.  His loyalties are fierce, and his devotion is strong.  Sit with him during a tight game and you'll be reminded to keep standing, right there if that was where you were when an important play turned his way.  He's gotten us through the Cubs' World Series rain delay and TBG's Cleveland Cavaliers' championship run.  We couldn't have done it without his confidence and his instructions and his fervent belief that things would go his way.

The sports gods must love him.  I know that we do.

But this post was inspired by the feisty exchanges between my son and my husband as the Golden State Warriors and the Phoenix Suns begin their runs to the NBA Finals.  A slam dunk?  The phone rings.  A bad call?  The phone rings.  An amazing steal and an unexpected basket?  He dials.  

I'm just calling to give Dad grief my son told me when I picked up the receiver.  

I'm calling him to proclaim my superiority my husband declared as he dialed.

Their voices are raised.  Their blood is boiling.  Each is certain of the righteousness of their position - versus the refs or the fans or the coaches or the players themselves.  

Their smiles light up the room.  This is boy bonding at its height.... at least in my family.