I really, really don’t like basketball

I could almost say I hate basketball, although I was always taught not to use that word.

I don’t know what it is about basketball that gets me so, and I know that few share my dislike of the beloved sport. Is it the relentless back and forth or the ridiculously high scores (they scored! they scored again! oh my goodness, they scored again!!)? I don’t know. I used to go to UT basketball games with my dad, but I almost always fell asleep. And we had a basketball goal when we were kids, but I thought it was more fun to play on roller blades. It’s true.

It took me years to admit out loud that I disliked basketball. After all, everyone likes basketball, right? And most people who like one major sport tend to at least sort of like the others. But not me. It’s no exaggeration to say that I’d rather go to the dentist than to go to a basketball game.

Why am I telling you this? Because E just made the basketball team, and I am struggling with how to handle it. For me, it is as if he made the competitive spitting team. I tend to find the attitude of basketball players to be unappealing, because there’s a shared pride that overflows, although that’s less the case when the kids aren’t big enough to dunk the ball. And I’ve already mentioned that I can hardly stay awake while watching the game. I’m certainly not seeing a basketball hoop at our house in our future, although there are a few balls floating around.

Clearly I have to be happy for E, and I am. I just wish it weren’t basketball.