No Air Jordan

On Tuesday I received a call from a fellow classmates Mom of Logans, asking if he would be interested in joining an intramural basketball team they were starting. I half chuckled at what she was getting her self into. Logan and a ball (especially a basketball) do not make a good pair. A couple of days earlier I unfortunately had the experience of bringing him with me to Old Navy, where they have large bins of balls right next to the check out lane. As I fumbled with my stuff I let him play with the distractions they tried to pursuaiet upon us, after about 30 seconds of watching him try to dribble a basket ball and then subsequently chasing after it across the store, bouncing it into innocent by standards, I stopped him with a shake of my head. He was awful! I mean extremely bad. This of course comes back to being our fault. He has rarely had the opportunity to even pick up a basket ball.
We kick a soccer ball around in the neighbors yard every once in a while. He recently even took to tossing a football with one of his cousins, while they were in town. Basketball on the other hand hasn't even been approached.
I responded to the Mom with an excuse, of course. You can't just spring this on my and actually expect an immediate answer, which she wanted. The practice was to start the next day and they wanted to know if they had enough kids. So... I dreadfully asked Logan what he thought. I must say he didn't jump on the idea right away, he hesitated and then asked, "Well umm, are they going to lower the hoops?".
After being assured that "I'm sure they have to lower the hoops." He replied with an excited "Yes!". Me, not so sure.
Yesterday, I was still trying to back peddle out of this dilemma. A half hour before we were supposed to be at the school, I suggested "Hey, lets go to the pool tonight instead!" I'm horrible I know. His response "O.K. after basket ball?" the kids is like a sponge, he remembers everything (I don't want him to that is). There was no getting out of it.
By 10 til 4 he was all suited up, basketball shorts, gym pants over, Nike sweatshirt on top. He was running around dribbling his imaginary basketball. He even asked for a water bottle and little towel (.?!). I know this is where my in laws, who are obsessed with CT College Basketball is hopping that I am going to say " I was wrong." " He completely surprised me." "The kid is a natural!". What happened next still makes me have a pit in my stomach.
We went in the gym and with in seconds the kid went crazy. Running around like he was being chased by a deranged lunatic. If there was ever a kid needed for an ADD commercial, I had found one.
As they lined everyone up for drills, Logan was grinding on the kid in front of him with a funky dance. Once they gave out the balls, it got real ugly. At no point did they kid have actual control over a ball, during the whole HOUR!!! He spent the whole time chasing the fleeing balls on his stomach. Let's just say they should now be paying him instead of a janitor for actually cleaning and dusting that gym floor.
I am really thankful that I have the distraction of chasing a one year old off the court the whole time, so I didn't have to actually watch. It was painful, really painful.
I was hopping that it was just his age. No kindergarten could possibly be good at basketball, right? Most of the other kids weren't great, but far better than I imagined. One kid (of course the one paired up with Logan)had fancy shoes, a bright matching tank and gym shorts, head band, and yes even a water bottle and towel! I heard his Dad grumbling when he was paired with Logan again at the end. Shamefully I have to say I even felt a little bad for the kid.
It was a long hour. When he climbed onto the bleachers, he said he was hot. Well no wonder, he worked out 10 times harder than every one that actually spent the practice on their feet!
On the way home, I tried to explain that maybe basketball wasn't his calling. He didn't like what I was saying. I thought about lying and telling him he didn't make the team.
Then I remembered the next practice is on a Sunday, so maybe I'll let Dad have a little comedy hour before we yank this one.