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.

I absolutely love where we live. I love the old houses and architecture, I love the community and the people, I love the proximity to town, and I love that we have an urban jungle – complete with creek – in our back yard.

But as C was watching the Elmo-the-babysitter play tag with Elmo yesterday, I got sad for a beloved part of my childhood that C and her siblings will never really have: Hide and Seek (except I remember calling it “Hide and Go Seek” with an extraneous “go” thrown in for those unclear on the concept).

I remember entire evenings consumed by Hide and Seek. I remember being mad at neighbors who wouldn’t play because “90210″ was on tv. I remember yelling and screaming and trying not to get caught. I remember being frustrated that I had to stop playing long enough to eat, and I remember playing until it got too dark to play and then making plans to play again the next day. But most of all I remember running up and down the neighbors’ yards, hiding behind trees or sheds.

Damn, those were good times. When I was a kid, I was never particularly great at most sports; I played entire seasons of baseball without a single hit. But I was fast enough to win medals in track the one year I ran in high school. Hide and Seek was my real game. It was a game of simple rules and running your guts out.

But I don’t think there’s a lot of Hide and Seek playing in ONK. You could ascribe it to the homeless problem, and that was my first thought, too. But the truth of the matter is that the small lots and busy streets just aren’t conducive to the game. And the fence around our (50′x200′) property doesn’t help too much, either. Sure, there are several great parks within a half a mile of my house, but neither of them offer much for Hide and Seek enthusiasts.

But still, I think I will try to get the kids interested the next time we have a crowd over at our house. And maybe it would help if I joined in.