So My Mom’s Got Game…

Dear Mom,

I know you know the story because you are in the story, but I have to confess something to you.

Actually, this may a confession of some things (accentuated plural) but, I’ll start with these accolades first:

For all intents and purposes, you know more about basketball than anyone I have ever heard speak about it who wasn’t a commentator on TV.

It’s quite amazing actually. And I’m not sure if it’s your colloquial banter that makes it so awesome when you’re speaking about the NBA but you’re very knowledgeable and entertaining. ConsideringI never saw you read the sports page or watch ESPN, I’m also a little in awe about how you gained this knowledge.

Nevertheless, you have it. And it’s so impressive to watch and/or listen to. And this leads me into the first part of my confession:

I have actually borrowed your sports knowledge and opinions on several occasions and used it to impress men who I have been interested in.

And it works.

The funny thing is I can’t remember who it was you were talking to when I would eavesdrop on your conversations. I don’t recall it being Beelzebob (your ex husband), cause to be brutally honest, I don’t recall Beelzebob ever speaking in more than grunts, farts, and disparaging comments.

And I know you had to procreate with the man in order for me to be writing this confessional letter to you, but jeeeez how did you deal with him?

But I distinctly remember your voice talking to someone about George McGinnis and Julius Erving and I remember you being excited about them. And then one day when I woke up in the morning, there were two eight by ten glossy photos wedged between the woodwork and the paneling near my bedroom door. One was McGinnis; the other was Erving. When I went to breakfast that morning, I asked you who those guys were in the pictures on my wall.

Your response to me was classic:

You flicked your ashes in the ashtray that was on the counter under the rotary phone hanging on the wall, and you said, “You’ll learn, girl.”

Sidebar confession: I’ve always hated that phrase. It was very condescending. It was almost as if you had this assumption that didn’t have the mental acumen to understand things.

But I have to say, if it was wrong of me to lay quietly in my room at night while you were talkin either in the kitchen or the living room to whomever it was you were talkin to on the phone and just listen…

…then I’m just gonna have to apologize now, because not only did I listen, but I learned from you. And I took said knowledge to many an event, gathering, shoot sometimes even a sports bar. And every once in a while, someone would make a comment about a particular player or statistic and I would be reminded of something you said about it, and I, without shame even 🤦🏻‍♀️ (that’s me showin shame now) would just regurgitate something you said.

More often than not, I was lucky enough not to have been asked a follow up question or asked to validate what I had just said…

…cause if I did I’d be “up the crick”.

Sidebar confession 2:

I never understood the difference between a crick and a creek, and as I’m typing this up to you now Mom, I still don’t know, and I don’t think I wanna know. Ima just let you have that little colloquial term.

Back to my stunning men so speechless with your knowledge of sports that they don’t even bother to ask me a follow up question. They just look at me like I’m a little sports mutant and sometimes they buy me drinks.

Thanks Mom

Sorry for stealing your game!

Hope I kinda made you proud or, at the very least laugh, lol.

Happy Mother’s Day

Love you…