Saturday Blah Blah Blah

 

Basketball (and tennis) everywhere

The first game was set for 10 a.m. and I had to get to Newtown.

Two hours should have been enough time since setup doesn't take that long.

For you "WHAT ABOUT PREPARATION??!" types, I assure you that I already had notes from Boomslang Basketball -- who hire me to call the games. Given these games are with girls younger than 10 years old, I typically don't get anything about the opposing team because, again, they are girls younger than 10 years old.

But it was also raining. A steady soaking was hitting the roads, meaning driving a car with a bad alignment and tires that are impacted by that would be difficult.

So, notes and scoresheet in hand, I climbed into the car. Given the chance to get on I-95, I passed on it, electing to use the back roads and U.S. 1 through Cos Cob to Riverside. 

Then I decided to give 95 a shot.

The puddling and the pace of the road felt dangerous so I elected to bail and go through Stamford into Darien before hitting Norwalk.

In truth, I considered firing off an ultra-rare text: "I don't think I can make it tonight." But, more to the point, I didn't think I was going to get to Newtown in time.

But, choosing to remain calm and keep moving, I decided to use CT Route 53 out of Norwalk. That, eventually, would connect me with other back roads toward Newtown. So, not only would I not be late for the game but I'd have enough time to get inside, survey the arena, and find a place to set up.

I went to a corner, sandwiched between two portable basketball hoops. I didn't need a power outlet since I had a full battery and a new power bank that can recharge my MacBook, so I was able to be ready in minutes.

Literally, because the game was starting.

Calling basketball at this level still gets treated like any game I call, except criticism is non-existent (or truly minimal), and making sure everything is fun under the circumstances is paramount.

With that in mind, I made fun of driving in the rain and how I hadn't had a cup of coffee yet.

I also gently chided the opposing coach who I described as "ebullient."

In truth, he was a bit more vociferous. Loud, even. 

You see, coaches to me will all have to live up to Lou D'Aliso, my forever baseball coach, as well as Dan Veglia, our beloved bowling coach at Mahopac. Neither were big on yelling, though I'd find a way to cut you off when you deserved it.

Disappointing Coach D was akin to letting my dad down.

First game one year -- the site was Mahopac Jr. High -- and I muffed a ball in right field. I ran back to the bench and spiked my glove, muttering a few unkind things about myself.

That earned me an arm around my shoulder and a quick set of words about shaking it off and being a leader. There was no need to react the way I did.

Bingo. I'd eventually become a captain.

Every coach has their style but when you're easily heard, well, it's obviously noticeable.

And fans. Look, fans are great when they're engaged and cheering. But leave the officiating to the officials and the coaching to the coaches.

Not to mention leaving the playing to the players.

I saw it all today at this basketball factory with three different games going on at once.

Much of it leaves me shaking my head.

Oh, and don't think I didn't see the people either laughing or shaking their heads at me. I saw it. Trust me.

Between games, I had enough time to go to a nearby breakfast/lunch place and scoop up some food as well as that much-needed coffee.

Then, back to the arena (sort of like a warehouse) for the second game. With time to spare and every place to sit taken, I sat on the floor and edited the first broadcast.

Eventually, we moved to a separate court for the second game and, again, I found a corner to set up. 

Again, that drew more looks. I'm sure some think it is bizarre that a grown man, one who has called games professionally for roughly a quarter of a century, is hanging out here on a Saturday morning, but I love doing games. That's it. The end.

The games ended. Now it was time to create a route home without involving a highway.

I'll spare you the details (basically routes 25, 302, 53, 7, 35, 121, and 22 were involved). I sloshed around a few times but was soon home.

Telling Sean of the day he thrust his keys at me.

"Yeah. Take my car," he said.

We'll deal with that tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow.

First game at 8. 

Yes, a.m.

Tune in for more hijinks and, more importantly, to give these girls an audience.