the team

Once upon 5th grade someone decided it would be fun if Adri signed up for basketball. I recently asked my parents if they remember whose idea this could have been? Did I really come to them, begging to try this sport? Was it a wacky idea one of THEM came up with? Did I have a friend who insisted we sign up together? No one could remember. But, somehow---someway I ended up on a basketball team.

My gear-loving Dad took me to his Herman's (his favorite sporting goods store despite the creepy back-stairs entrance) to get some appropriate shoes. For me, the shoes were the highlight of the whole deal: white with turquoise accents and "Reebok" stitched across the side. They were nice shoes. Dad thought so, too. Which is why he insisted that I NOT put them on until I was inside the gym. Now, I'm not discounting his wisdom; I'm sure most NBA players do not wear their court shoes outside, either. However, for me, a fifth-grader who was the most un-pro-like player, it was just plain embarrassing to have to walk into basketball practice, shoebox under my arm, and sit on the sideline changing my shoes "Mr. Rogers style" before practice. But, Dad insisted; I obeyed (wasn't I such an angel child!)

I'm not sure if our team had a name, but our shirts were yellow. For some unknown reason (again, the parents can't explain it, either), I decided that the best shorts to wear with the yellow team shirt were orange. I looked more dorky than the Sunshine Generation kids. I know, because I once overheard a bystander making a comment about my orange shorts and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a compliment.

Besides my 'look' there was my skill. Mmm hmmm. I'm not a really sporty kind of girl. Never have been. I won't even mention my 2 seasons of softball. But, my obvious inabilities were easily made up for by our star player: Mr. T. Really, her name was Erin, but she insisted that we call her "Mr. T." She was a red-headed, freckled, stocky little thing with a mushroom cut hair-do and mad skillz. She could dribble and steal; she'd break away and shoot a lay up before anyone even started running to that side of the court. She was the forward and the backward and everyone in between. I'm sure she was completely annoyed with the rest of the sissies on our team. Other teams in our all-girl league would see her moves (and her hair) and comment that it wasn't fair that the yellow team had a boy player. Erin was awesome!

I only played basketball for one season. It was my gift to the team when I silently bowed out the next year. Soon after, my family moved and I transferred to a different school. I'm not certain, but I would guess that Erin continued to play basketball and was the star player of her high school team. Many years later, I ran into Erin at an amusement park. She was operating the rollercoaster, and when I jumped off I saw her in the little booth working the controls. She yelled my name through the glass and waved. "Mr. T!" I screamed back, excited to see her after all this time. She had turned into a very pretty girl, her red hair long and naturally wavy and her freckles faded and cute across her button nose. I only saw her for that minute, but it made me smile to remember that we were once part of the same team.
Dal started basketball this week. Unfortunately, he seems to have inherited my natural balling abilities. He didn't touch the ball much, but, this boy is definitely a good teammate. He cheered louder than anyone else whenever the ball made it through the hoop. And, maybe just being on the team is what it's all about.