I don’t think I’ve mentioned here that Basketball Girl has joined the cheerleading team at her high school. And when I say “team,” I really mean it. Her team competes all over the West and usually wins the national championships in its division, so it is very serious business — nothing at all like the popular-girl style of cheerleading that prevailed in the prehistoric days when I was in high school.
She only went to the tryouts to provide moral support for one of her friends who wanted to try out, and ended up as one of just a few freshmen on the team. Having never taken dance or gymnastics before, she was really starting from zero. In just a few months, she has mastered the splits, roundoffs, back walkovers, (almost) back handsprings, and all the cheerleader jumps. It’s been a big challenge for her, and we have been proud of how hard she’s worked to learn all the cheers and tumbling moves. Here she is (on the left) with some of the other girls from the team:
But this blog is really all about me (MMMEEEEEE!), and what this means for me is that I’ve been going to a lot of basketball games to watch Basketball Girl cheer.
Luckily for me, the basketball team at her high school is a top-ranked team and very exciting to watch. Sitting in the stands brings back memories of when I was in high school and my friends and I drove all over the Chicago suburbs in my friend Pat’s 1950s Chevy to watch our high school team play basketball. I’ve even been able to get Sunny to come to a couple of games with me. She brings her knitting needles and alternately knits and cheers. We also like to admire our team’s very handsome coaches.
This was the big game against the hated arch-rival high school:
The priest on the right is another knitter, watching the big game:
And here’s the team warming up for a tournament at which they beat the even-more-hated arch-rival team from the rich suburbs (especially satisfying since we’re the poor school from the ‘hood):
It’s bittersweet to see these kids just starting out, so disciplined and full of purpose, and realize that I’m never again going to be where they are. Of course, where I am is pretty good, too. But I won’t be young again.