Wednesday, February 27, 2013


Leila had a basketball game today.  It was a massacre. Her team lost 20 - 2.  That is not a typo.  Our two best shooters weren't at the game, and our girls looked like lumbering dinosaurs compared to these tiny, fast Mt. Carmel girls.  One of our girls would go to pass, and there would be no one to pass to because the team seemed kind of spaced out, and the opposing team would just swoop in and grab the ball.  They should have thanked us every time.  My whole family came to see the game, even my brother, and it was just depressing.  The one high light was that the one, lonely basket we did get was shot by Leila.  I think she was more surprised than anyone else.  In fact, she always looks somewhat shocked when the ball ends up in her hands.  Like she's never seen a basketball before, and she's not quite sure whether to dribble it or eat it. 

The other girls have their own problems, like the one who can dribble and run like a madwoman, but once she gets to the end of the court she loses all control and falls down and the ball goes out of bounds.  Or the kid who keeps dribbling right on her own feet and the ball ends up rolling into the hands of the opposing team.  Or the girl that shoots baskets from anywhere on the court that the mood strikes her; 30 feet from the basket, and she's launching the ball over the heads of the other players who can only watch as it bounces off the backboard.  She never makes those shots.  They also keep dribbling and passing away from the basket once they get near it, rather than shooting.  Like they're thinking that the opposing team hasn't had enough opportunity to get the ball from them, and needs a few more chances. 

Then there's the wrestling over the ball.  Two, sometimes three girls clutching the ball and falling on the floor, rolling around until the ref blows the whistle.  Its comedy. 

We won our last game, but we just looked like keystone cops out there today.  Woof.  Really.  It was brutal.
Fancy Free-throw Footwork

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