‘The Death of Me’

I try to live my life stress and drama free.
Even with a beautiful 15 year daughter, I still try to live stress and drama free.
And for the most part, I do, thank God.
Until now.
You see, there are certain things we are not cut out to do.
I could never be a lawyer.
I could never work in a high rise building.
I could never be a nurse.
And, I could never, ever, be a coach.
I am the assistant coach for my son’s 1st grade basketball team. Actually, I am one of 3 assistant coaches.
There are 16 kids on the team. Most have never played basketball before. And when I am done, they probably won’t ever play again.
I have dabbled in coaching before, with my daughter when she played softball.
She was 7 at the time. And I aged 7 years in that time.
Then last year, I filled in coaching my son’s basketball team. 6 kindergartners.
It was like talking to 6 seals.
6 adorable, lovable seals.
That I never wanted to see again.
“I need you to dribble down and pass the ball to JJ OK?”
“Why do I want to do that?”
“Because he is open.”
“Which one is JJ again?”
Head. Against.The.Wall.
We lost the one game that I filled as head coach. We lost 16-14.
It might as well have been 116 to 14.
At halftime, we were tied at 6. Yes, tied at 6.
“OK guys, here is what we need to do in the second half, so pay attention please.”
“Hey, JJ’s Dad, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, go ahead.”
“Can you do this dance?”

(The ole, Gangnam Style dance.)
“Umm, nope I can’t, why?”
“Because I can.”
And for the next two minutes, he proceeds to do the dance.
The other 5 players? Cheering him on in the locker room.
So now, for some odd reason, I am coaching again.
This time, first graders. And one of them, is my son, who is like me in so many ways, which drives me batty.
Our first practice, a nightmare.
Rebounds. Dribbling. Shooting. Hustling. Passing.
Might as well been speaking Chinese.
3 boys and one girl.
Girl doesn’t move the entire time we are practicing.
My son, won’t stop moving. The other two, treat practice like a Mario game.
We had a scrimmage. 4 on 4.
My son, JJ, had 4 steals. Problem, he stole the ball from his own teammate.
One of the kids had 3 blocks.. Problem, he blocked his own team’s shots.
Meanwhile, I am getting ready to slam my head into a brick wall.
When one of the kids, hits a jumper from about 30 feet out.
“Why did you shoot so far out?”
“Because if I went any closer, JJ was going to steal the ball.”
Smart kid.
So when you see my obituary in the paper soon, you will know why.
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
Well, I should be able to bench press a train soon.
With one hand.
That is, if my son doesn’t steal it first. #Ohjojo

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