Saturday, March 5, 2011

Church balls

My awesome baby girl plays on our ward's basketball team.  In past years they've gone to regions.  This year, however, it is no longer called "regions".  It's "stake on stake play"  or some such drivel.  It still means they were the best team in our stake and get to play against the best from other stakes now.  I've only been to a couple of her games this season because of work and they have been played at our ward chapel.  I managed to creep in and creep out without attracting too much attention.  Though after one game I noticed that my jacket was gaping and showing my tank top and bra strap.  I'm sure that fueled the gossip fires for a while.  Too bad I didn't think to bring a flask and pull it out of my black, lacy bra for a sip or two.  That would have created a bonfire for MONTHS!

Not having the excuse of work, I girded up my loins and moseyed over to the stake center where they were playing their first  "steak on steak"  game.  It didn't take long to find the cultural hall since it was the typical racetrack floor plan.  I felt as if I had walked into a cave.  Dark carpet, dark walls, no lights on in the hallways.  My skin started to itch.  (I swear I must be allergic to something in the air in those damn chapels.  Not sure if it's physical or mental.)  There were five girls on our team and three times that many on the other. They all stood and said the Young Women's theme and had a prayer that they could "feel the love of our savior and spread love and friendship".  Yeah. 

I sat in the "fan seating' and tried to watch the game as a herd of small children ran around bouncing balls and generally being loud and obnoxious.  At one point I moved my chair to avoid being bounced on.  I should have just grabbed the damn ball and sat on it.  Our team beat them soundly, even as outnumbered as we were.  The other team really wasn't that good, but they went down fighting.  And love and friendship was felt all around, as our girls nursed the scratched faces and bruises shared by the other team.  I'm not sure I can gird my loins up far enough to go to another game unless I find me a bra flask.


  1. The missionaries in a former ward used to try to get young, male investigators interested by having them come play basketball at church on Tuesday nights. They advertised it as "Basketball for Jesus."

  2. Vodka or silver spiced rum in a water bottle. (I got all itchy reading your description of the cultural (ahem) hall and the out of control spawn ...)