After the Super Bowl, I was looking forward to a bit of peace and quiet on the sports front. Don’t get me wrong, I love that Luca is so sporty. But I was getting concerned that his passion for the NFL was turning into an obsession. And if anyone is going to be obsessed with anything in our house, it’s gonna be Star Wars. Case closed.
I looked forward to a couple mornings where we spoke about anything but the NFL. Maybe the weather? Maybe the impending doom of the Corona Virus. Maybe moral and ethical decisions that lead the Rebellion to kill millions on the Death Star.
As I bounded out the door for my weekly business trip, I stopped to give Luca a kiss. He asked, “Dad. If I feed Grover every day, can I buy an NBA game?”
What? NBA? Now we’re into the NBA? Yup. Luca jumped in to NBA obsession like Toni Kukoc driving the lane. I stopped watching the NBA in 1993.
Soon afterwards, all conversation turned to basketball and nothing else. Who plays what. Every stat. Shoes. Shorts. Athletic supporters.
Our home was also invaded by the “thud thud thud” of basketball dribbling. Constantly. Thud. Thud thud thud.
Last Saturday, Luca begged me to play with him at the park. Eli joined because I forced him to. I suddenly realized that although I hadn’t actually played basketball in 20 years, I was also at least a foot taller than my sons.
I dominated.
This must have been what Shaq felt like when he played against his sons. I parked myself under the basket and swatted away every shot they took. I leisurely hit lay-up after lay-up. I also taught them the fine art of trash talking.
I came very close to rupturing my Achilles Tendon and decided they had enough. I also beat Luca in his NBA video game. But we all know he will quickly outgrow me in that endeavor.
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