One of the things I have begun to figure out as I have grown older is that there is a story behind every headline. So often I scroll through the news and I read some sentence fragment in bold print and draw critical and judgmental conclusions from it. But the more I live the more I realize that I get myself in some situations and there are a handful of small steps, some of which aren’t all that irrational, that lead to whatever situation I happen to be recounting in my head. There is, of course, at each step the option to walk away…but we’re all human beings right? We all have the “fight or fight” instinct, right? Wait…wasn’t there supposed to be an ‘L’ in there somewhere?
So this past winter I was at my son’s basketball game. He
was 10 years old at the time and on a team of 5th and 6th
graders. Remember that 6th graders are technically middle-schoolers
now so we’re not talking about tiny little children running around here. One of
the kids on his team has a very ugly (please shave it now!) dark but not
whiskery teenage mustache. One of the kids clearly has BO.
The point is that while these are kids, they are kids who
are at an age where they need to be playing the game by the rules. And, as with
any youth sport, the referees are a total crap shoot. Now I’m not talking about
literally firing guns at feces here, I’m talking about the dice game craps. Or,
as Mama always said, youth sports is like a box of chocolates.
At this particular game our family had a pretty good
turnout. The folding chairs line the sideline and we occupied 7 of them. We
were near the end of the court and were seated as follows: my mother-in-law, my
father-in-law, my dad, my 3 year old son, me, my wife, my 8 year old daughter,
some guy, his 8ish year old daughter.
Well my father-in-law, John, gets into any game he attends.
Doesn’t matter if it’s minor league baseball or youth soccer or church league
softball…John hates poor officiating. And he’s vocal about it. He also happens
to look exactly like every adult male cast member from Duck Dynasty. So his
manner is abrasive when it comes to being a spectator. I happen to be similar
in that regard, but I do my best to be sensitive to the fact that someone’s
parent is likely sitting somewhere near me.
During this game the referees were seemingly calling some
rules but not others. Two of the things they just kept allowing were travelling
and double-dribbling. For you non-sports folks out there those are the rules
that relate to how you have to bounce the ball while moving around on the
court. They are foundational to how basketball is played. So when the refs kept
not calling it John would bark something and then I would yell out something
like “come on! You’ve gotta call that!”.
After another of these incidents a voice came from my left. “Are
you guys coaches?” I ignored it because nothing good could come from walking
down this path. 15 seconds go by. “Are you coaches?” I turned to him and played
dumb “What?” “Are…you…coaches?” “Are we coaches?” “Yes. Are you coaches?” “No,
obviously not. We’re sitting over here. (as opposed to the other side of the
court with the team)” “Then shut up.” “These kids need to learn how to play the
game the right way.” “F%@# you.”
Screeeeeeeech….this thing just got bumped to a whole new
level. I have some decisions to make here now. This guy is sitting next to my
sweet little daughter. My wife is between us. His daughter seems unfazed so I
can only assume this guy acts like this regularly and she’s going to grow up
with a warped sense of what being a human living in a society is supposed to
look like. Decisions, decisions. My blood is pumping.
“You’re going to say that right in front of my kid, huh?” (More
slowly this time) “F % @ # YOU”.
There are certain lines you do not cross with another man. I
don’t pull out this rule often, but I do believe in it. One time a neighbor who
I like and get along with was mad that there was cat poop in his bark dust so
he flung it all over onto my walkway and my house and I nearly stepped in it
before I realized what he’d done. There are certain lines you don’t
cross with another man. I gave that neighbor a pass on that one but I did talk
to him about it and let him know I was aware he was flinging crap at my house.
And had he done it again we would no longer be cordial neighbors.
Back to this situation at the basketball game…there is no
solution here that will not leave me with regrets. I was at a cross roads.
Either I can do what really SHOULD be done and tell the guy to follow me
outside and break his nose. But then I end up in the newspaper tomorrow (or the
following Thursday…whenever it is the newspaper actually gets delivered
anymore). And that leads me back to my original point: every headline has a
story. Everyone to the last person will read the headline about the two guys
who got in a fight at the youth basketball game and shake their heads and talk
about the demise of society as morons are fighting over youth sports. But this
wasn’t about youth sports. This was about learning life lessons about how not
to conduct yourself with other adults in front of their spouse and children. I
truly believe even now I SHOULD have punched this guy. And a very big part of
me regrets not doing it.
What I did do was say “You’re a really classy guy. Class
act.” And then full on turned my back to him. Now the astute reader is
remembering that my back turning, while demeaning to him, has left my wife and
daughter kind of isolated by this guy. I thought about that too. But the truth
is my daughter didn’t know what this guy was talking about. And had I traded
places with her I’m almost certain we would have fought. It’s an aggressive
move and I was literally trying to stay out of the newspaper, really.
A few minutes later a hand came into my vision. He was
trying to shake my hand. “I’m sorry.” I looked at him. I almost shook it out of
pure instinct…someone extends a handshake you usually take it, right? “Last
week the parents were pretty out of control and I got pretty worked up.” So I
looked him right in the eye and said “apologize to my daughter.” He did. She
had no idea what was going on. I think he extended his hand to me again and I
turned my back again. That’s the last I saw of him. Never looked at him again.
My wife says I should have accepted his apology. And to an
extent she’s right. But my point is that he needs to learn you don’t go where
he went. I don’t know who’s right…maybe we both are.
Good news though! I didn’t end up as a punchline at the
water cooler. I didn’t lose my reputation or job. I didn’t get a black eye. All
I lost is a little bit of self-respect. But I don’t really count that up very
often anyway.
