Last night, I watched as my 22-month-old ran some basketball lay-up drills in our driveway.  She worked her way up to slam dunks, followed by some sweet showboat moves that included her hanging from the front of the rim.  Although her slam dunks weren’t as glamorous as LeBron’s, they were still impressive for a girl standing 2′ 8″ and 25lbs soaking wet. 




Video of warm-ups while ‘Eye of the Tiger’ played in the background.

In need of something-new-themed material for my sister’s blog I switched out my flip flops for a pair of high-tops and balled up.  So for the sake of covering my sister’s arse while she treks around Europe (and calls home for money to be sent by Western Union):

         I challenged a 1-year-old to a game of P-I-G. 

I’ve always been taught elders first, so I took the liberty to start things off.  My first shot banked off the backboard – total brick. 

“Magic Johnson” was up next.  She took her sweet old time picking the ball out of the grass, rolling it up her belly into her hands and carrying (travelling if we’re getting technical) the ball directly in front of the hoop and rolling it over the rim and in.  I got the rebound, showboated up to the hoop with some wicked behind-the-back dribbling and……………….missed.  Seriously.  It wasn’t pretty.

Magic got the ball back, did her signature move, and rolled it up and over the rim and in again.  I decided it was time to crack down, step up my game a notch.  I wasn’t going to embarrass myself for the sake of a one-year-old’s ego, even if she was my own daughter.  I walked up to the hoop, looked down through the net, and dropped my hand with the ball through it.  2-points!  Take that.

Magic giggled, ran after the ball, and strolled up to the hoop for her third shot.  This time she pulled a one-handed (lefty) lay-up off the backboard.  I was impressed.  I tried to copy, palming the 3″ plastic basketball and lost grip half way down to the hoop and missed the backboard/basket/net/post all together.  She had me at P-I.  I thought about changing the game to H-O-R-S-E at that point.  She wouldn’t have known any different, but my mama taught me better.  Cheating was not going to help my cause anyway…I had to make a basket to win regardless of how many letters I added or subtracted from my side.

The little all-star picked up the ball again, stumbled at the foot of the hoop, let go of the ball just as she was toppling over and missed seeing her own shot go in.  Does it count if she didn’t see it go in?  I let her have it.  If we were playing street ball, I don’t know if I would have let it go down like that.

So I had P-I after Magic made her last shot.  I had to aim for nothing but net in order to stay alive.  I was feeling lucky, so I backed up to the 3-point arc (which was at about 8′ in the Nerf world).  I set my feet, checked my hand placement, perfected my form and released…………..

The ball ricocheted off the backboard, hit Magic Johnson square in the forehead, and landed in my three-year-old’s tricycle cart.   Lots of crying followed from both my daughter and I.  She had a cherry red nose and I had been schooled in the game of P-I-G………….by a one-year-old, no less.


5 Comments Add yours

  1. Frank says:

    Maybe you should have played a game of
    G-R-O-W U-P. You must be the MVP of Lameville. But I digress…….

  2. Frank says:

    By the way: when are you leaving for Europe? I’d like to get in on this guest blogger thing. Let me know.

  3. Loyster says:

    You’re just mad that we didn’t invite you to play so that you could relive your role as Larry Bird or Downtown Freddy Brown.

  4. cogsy says:

    Have you ever been a state champion?

  5. Loyster says:

    Roger Bacon knows where Avon Lake is.

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