Gotta Be the Ice Cream Shoes
My son and his classmates are getting ready to compete in a basketball tournament against some area schools. He and his friends have been practicing a few days a week. There’s an adult coaching them, but it’s pretty informal. They work on dribbling and shooting and some basic pick-n-roll plays before heading off to other activities like soccer and lacrosse. It’s less about winning and more about having fun.
So when one of the boys left practice early last week, it was no big deal. His coach and teammates figured he had homework or piano lessons to get to. The thing is, while this particular boy is the tallest on the team – he can practically dunk – he doesn’t work at his game. He just stands there and waits for the ball to come to him.
My son and his friends aren’t trying to win the NCAA Tournament bracket, it’s a single day event with other elementary schools. But they’d like to be competitive, it makes the games more fun. And their best shot at winning is for this tall boy to spend a little energy and actually try.
(Would a flattering news article stroke his ego and get him going? We’re not talking a major daily. If Miley Cyrus can get in Vanity Fair, this boy could make the school announcement bulletin, no problem.)
Forty-five minutes after the boy left practice he returned, and he wasn’t empty handed. He was carrying an ice cream sundae. Whip cream, sprinkles, cherry on top. WTF! (No, he wasn’t the Starbucks drinking four-square player from my Good Morning America post.)
He sat down and ate his dessert and watched his teammates practice. When he finished, he got up and came onto the court. His pants (yes, pants – no basketball shorts for this boy) and shoes were stained with ice cream.
Guess what? He got after that ball, dominated the lanes, grabbed every rebound, took good shots, made some passes, and actually ran up and down the court.
Must have been the ice cream shoes. Now if we can just sneak a quart of Ben and Jerrys ice cream into the tournament gym…
- Track Season is for Lovers
- Way Beyond Soccer Dad
- My Teen Daughter is a Fast Girl
- Soccer, Friends, and Wine
- Back to School Shopping in a New Age Pharmaceutical Church
- Dog Days of Summer
- I Have a Confession
- Prank Phone Call
- My Teen Son Wants a Golf Cart
- My Teen Daughter is a Grandma
- Father and Son, Sharing a Passion One-on-One
| 
Subscribe | © 2008-09 David Mott, DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.
Comment by Beth
| May 9th, 2008
Where on earth did you find those shoes? Are they for real? Don’t tell me they’re your son’s. LOL
Comment by Tom
| May 9th, 2008
I like the way that kid thinks.
poor kid had low blood suger and coach was a dope not to work with him to get his energy up and focus on the game.
I blame the coach!
Comment by Cara
| May 9th, 2008
Dadshouse, I have to agree with Tom. Sounds like that boy had low blood sugar and sorted it out himself.
Or perhaps he was just dehydrated?
x
Cara
Comment by The Exception
| May 14th, 2008
Oh the wonders a little bit of sugar can do!