Thursday, March 4, 2010

All for the LOVE

of CHURCH basketball

This was pretty much right after it happened.  It got bigger and then turned some different shades of purple but don't worry a week and a half later it's now just some lovely shades of green and yellow and just a medium size growth on my leg.

I admit I might take church basketball a little too SERIOUSLY.  I DON'T want to lose, I don't LIKE to lose but who does? We were down by 5 with a little over 4 minutes to play (we had just been tied like three minutes before).  Our stake does stop the clock for ANYTHING (this really bugs me) I mean anything, not timeouts, not free throws, who name it the clock runs.  Half the time the clock starts before we even jump.  So any way I knew that time was RUNNING out.  I had already spent half the game on the floor, I was either fouled really hard or I was going for loose balls.  For some reason I can't just let a ball go out of bounds if I am near by.  My head just doesn't work that way.  Some times I wish it did it would save  me a lot of pain.  I think about it after the fact, like after I have a floor burn the size of Texas, or a jammed finger because I slipped on someone's jacket and slid into a chair (don't worry the wall stopped any further progress), or finger nail claw marks running from my elbow to my wrist (why for all that is holy do they not clip their nails before playing.  I'm just sayin') or bruises from trying to defend someone three times my size, (the tallest member of my team might be 5'7) I come in at 5'5.  Anyways the ball was about to go out of bounds and I couldn't have that so I started running I could see that I was going to be the first one to make it to the ball then time slowed down...I started falling and my hands flew to my ankle.  Pain shot up my leg and water came eyes fast.  I couldn't cry, I was laying on the floor and nine other women and two men refs were all staring at me.  Jon came to my rescue for the second time that night.  The first was when he got there to watch the kids.  Since he has school every night I take the kids and hope that he gets out a little early.  Any way he scoops me up and carries me off the floor.  (Yep he is super buff and didn't even mind that I was super dooper sweaty).  After that I kept saying to myself and Jon why was I so dumb?  Why can't I just let a ball go?  Why do I have to chase every loose ball?  Why? Why? Why?

The answer(s)...I LOVE the sport and I am VERY competitive.  It makes me HAPPY.  I have realized once I stop playing the way I do I need to stop playing the game.  I don't think I would enjoy playing any other way.  As with anything I do in life I don't want to give it anything else but all I have.

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