Basketball, Basketball, Milk!
After returning from the entirely unsuccessful trip to a college football game, the first question on my mind was “what other college sporting event can I drag my family to see this weekend?” As luck would have it, my alma mater Drake University was hosting intrasquad scrimmages for its men’s and women’s basketball teams yesterday. The scrimmages were open to the public, free, and perfectly situated between lunchtime and afternoon naptime. Ellie humored my vain attempts to relive my college days through athletic events and helped haul the kids as soon as everyone finished their peas.
I wanted to attend the scrimmages as a trial run for bringing the kids to real games. When Ellie worked late, I brought Abbie to a game or two a season for her first two years. These were important bonding times for us as we both stared at the ball and wondered what we could do to make it go where we wanted it. Now that the boys are here, I wanted to see how they’d react to the brightness of the lights, the volume of the crowd, and the frustration of all the missed shots.
The scrimmage was free, except for the popcorn and soda pop, so even if it’s a crushing disappointment like the football game, I’m not out much money. The scrimmage was sparsely attended, even by the standards of Drake basketball crowds, with maybe a couple hundred spectators. We could settle into an empty row of seats, giving the kids room to run/crawl, providing a buffer zone between their screams and any unsuspecting patrons, and increasing the odds that a thrown toy will bounce harmlessly off an empty seat instead of an influential alumnus. The scrimmage was also bribing people to attend with door prizes. With only a couple hundred people to compete with for one of 100 prizes, I liked my odds.
We settled into a row of seats on the top row of the lower section, giving us a row of dead space between our seats and the railing to store the diaper bag and whatever else we might find forgotten under our seats. I sat on the aisle and Ellie sat three seats in, leaving between us a runway for the kids to scamper as desired.
The boys spent their time alternating between being held and ambling within the baby run. Occasionally they crawled under our legs and outside the baby run, which was no problem when they ventured into the seating beyond Ellie, and a major problem when they ventured onto the stairs beyond me. I had to keep a closer eye to the space under my seat than on the court in front of me to ensure that no little men started climbing stairs. When one tried making a break for it, I’d put him in my lap, passing the current occupant onto Ellie if needed, and held him with a toy. That toy often went flying eventually, but the nearby spectators happily handed it back without once muttering, “if that thing lands by my seat one more time I’m keeping it.”
Abbie sat happily in her own seat and watched at first. I think I’m raising a little basketball player, or maybe a soccer player if I can ever convince her that she can’t use her hands. Colleges offer full-ride scholarships for both, so either will work. Eventually she grew bored and started digging through the diaper bag and competing with her brothers for space in the baby run. Eventually even physical activity failed to entertain her, and at that point mama returned with popcorn. She spent the rest of the game with a hand in the bucket.
We stayed for about an hour. Tory turned cranky about that time, reminding us that naptime was approaching. We packed up and returned home. It was a successful trip, and gave me confidence that we could return for a game that mattered more than Black vs. Blue. The experience would have been perfect if I just could have won a door prize.
I wanted to attend the scrimmages as a trial run for bringing the kids to real games. When Ellie worked late, I brought Abbie to a game or two a season for her first two years. These were important bonding times for us as we both stared at the ball and wondered what we could do to make it go where we wanted it. Now that the boys are here, I wanted to see how they’d react to the brightness of the lights, the volume of the crowd, and the frustration of all the missed shots.
The scrimmage was free, except for the popcorn and soda pop, so even if it’s a crushing disappointment like the football game, I’m not out much money. The scrimmage was sparsely attended, even by the standards of Drake basketball crowds, with maybe a couple hundred spectators. We could settle into an empty row of seats, giving the kids room to run/crawl, providing a buffer zone between their screams and any unsuspecting patrons, and increasing the odds that a thrown toy will bounce harmlessly off an empty seat instead of an influential alumnus. The scrimmage was also bribing people to attend with door prizes. With only a couple hundred people to compete with for one of 100 prizes, I liked my odds.
We settled into a row of seats on the top row of the lower section, giving us a row of dead space between our seats and the railing to store the diaper bag and whatever else we might find forgotten under our seats. I sat on the aisle and Ellie sat three seats in, leaving between us a runway for the kids to scamper as desired.
The boys spent their time alternating between being held and ambling within the baby run. Occasionally they crawled under our legs and outside the baby run, which was no problem when they ventured into the seating beyond Ellie, and a major problem when they ventured onto the stairs beyond me. I had to keep a closer eye to the space under my seat than on the court in front of me to ensure that no little men started climbing stairs. When one tried making a break for it, I’d put him in my lap, passing the current occupant onto Ellie if needed, and held him with a toy. That toy often went flying eventually, but the nearby spectators happily handed it back without once muttering, “if that thing lands by my seat one more time I’m keeping it.”
Abbie sat happily in her own seat and watched at first. I think I’m raising a little basketball player, or maybe a soccer player if I can ever convince her that she can’t use her hands. Colleges offer full-ride scholarships for both, so either will work. Eventually she grew bored and started digging through the diaper bag and competing with her brothers for space in the baby run. Eventually even physical activity failed to entertain her, and at that point mama returned with popcorn. She spent the rest of the game with a hand in the bucket.
We stayed for about an hour. Tory turned cranky about that time, reminding us that naptime was approaching. We packed up and returned home. It was a successful trip, and gave me confidence that we could return for a game that mattered more than Black vs. Blue. The experience would have been perfect if I just could have won a door prize.
posted by Matt at
10:32 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home