Face Mask?

Second week of basketball. Going into it, I was bitter about the way I was welcomed last week. I was more than motivated to play well. I laced up my pink Jordan's for an extra effect! Not only were these guys going to get beat by a girl, they were going to get beat by a girl with pink sneakers!

To my amazement, people talked to me when I walked in the gym. They asked me my name. They, in layman's terms, shot the sh*t with me. My team accepted me and passed me the ball right off the bat. The first shot I took I was wide open. Before I let it fly, I thought of Jeff, and how he always tells me, "don't take shots, make shots." What is the point of taking a shot if it doesn't go in? So, with that in the back of my mind, I made my shot. And, I continued to do so throughout the night.

I felt more than welcomed and accepted. For some reason, that felt good. There only seemed to be one guy, Dan, who wasn't too keen on me being there. Dan was still laughing at the people I scored on. I mean, what kind of man gets scored on by a girl in pink sneakers? I knew I needed to get Dan. I needed to prove something to him beyond hitting a jump shot or making a layup. For me, the worst feeling in life, not just basketball, but life, is when you get your shot blocked by the defense. That's what I needed to do to Dan.

My chance came in our second game. I had just made a layup and Dan wasn't thrilled about it. In his anger, he got the ball and was driving hard to the basket. I just knew he was going to shoot it. He had the look in his eye from the moment he got the ball. I positioned my puny body, and as he approached me like a bull in a china shop, I turned, jumped, and timed my scraggly arm to swat the ball away just as it was leaving his hand. THWAPPPPP! I blocked his sexist a$$! Like I said, no worse feeling. Of course this angered him further. You don't get blocked by a girl and not hear "oooooh's" and "ahhhhhh's."

In attempt to redeem himself, the next time down the court, I knew he was taking the shot again. So I positioned myself perfectly again, and THWAPPPP! Dan got his shot blocked by me again. Hahaha. I couldn't help but smile. It didn't look like he was going to redeem himself trying to score. Where else could he do it? He decided to try to do the same to me. At this point, I had nothing to lose. I was flying high. I didn't need to shot, I didn't need to score. For all I cared, I could sit at half court, watch the rest of the game, and leave happy. But, I would never do that. There was still more fun to be had, or at least I thought.

With the ball, Dan got a little carried away. He swatted at the ball in my hands and missed, knocking me square in the nose. Uh oh. Whenever I get hit in the nose, my eyes well up. I don't necessarily cry, but my eyes well up. I worked hard to keep the water in my eyes, while the blood daintily dripped out of my nose. People were not happy about this. I reminded them that I bring myself here and get right into the game. They just don't seem to understand that I don't want to be treated differently. I mean, I don't want to get hit in my money-maker of a nose, but it's part of the game. A little blood never hurt anyone.

Plus, tomorrow I am going to Cleveland! So, who cares? Life can only get better. With Halloween parties, parades, and a flight to my husband's arms, I wouldn't care if a bear mauled my face off, as long as I am alive to participate in tomorrows festivities. In order to add to the hilarity of the bloodied nose, I am debating showing up with Richard Hamilton's signature look: the face mask. What do ya think?