The Raging Elitist

It’s all too easy to slip into a bad mood at my son’s Saturday morning basketball games. I don’t want to have to be anywhere at 9 a.m. on a Saturday to begin with, much less the noisy, crowded town hall gym, biting my lip as I watch kids commit endless infractions that go unpenalized owing to the absence of officiating, overhearing the inane chitchat of parents, who, for reasons strange to me, seem to enjoy more friends than I do. Normally, I persevere, but this past Saturday, I momentarily succumbed to anger and disgust.

On the phone just before tipoff, planning a visit to my dad’s, the old man commented on a recent blog post, one of my more well written and time-consuming pieces, “Is it really important that I read these?” Then, back in the gym, I got a front row seat to watch a kid named Davis on the other team repeatedly dole out elbows. He would run down to assume his position on the block, jumping and elbowing anyone in his path as he went, twisting his pale, greasy face into a demonic, dimwitted little sneer. Remember, there are no officials. Finally, he caught a kid in the face and sent him to the sideline crying. On the next possession, when he started shoving a kid in the back, I broke down and interjected, “Stop that. Don’t do that!” only to listen to a dad sitting behind me start talking about how it was “actually good defense,” and how he was glad he wasn’t “embarrassing himself.” I kept my ass glued to the bleachers as the deep-seated need to smash my fist into that dude’s face sent stress hormones coursing through my body.

Of course, my boys cared about none of this. They happily cavorted with Cartter’s teammates during the game and the ensuing after party, oblivious to their Daddy’s pregame phone call and midgame hormonal spike. As the weekend unfolded and my father’s words echoed in my mind, I noticed that this was very often the case, that what was important to me was not important to them and vice versa. It got me thinking – What is important? We seem to all have quite different opinions. Maybe by paying attention to where those opinions overlap, I’ll be able to discover some universal truth about what actually matters, so with the weekend behind me and my pen and pad in hand, I set out to do just that. I considered Saturday’s and Sunday’s main activities – Cartter’s game, the College of Charleston game, and the Super Bowl. Here’s what I discovered regarding our attitudes about each.

Cartter’s Season-Ending Basketball Game:

Things important to me:

1. My dad recognizing that my cleverest blog posts make his life more fulfilling.

2. That little brat Davis getting his comeuppance.

3. My jokes coming off at the after party.

Things important to the kids:

1. Scotty’s honorary team membership as signified by the makeshift 76’er number 5 shirt Cartter did up in permanent marker. Number 5, because Scotty’s 5. The shirt lent legitimacy to Scotty’s place on the sideline where he handled the scorekeeping and hung with the older boys. His importance was later reinforced by the coach’s presentation of an actual jersey bearing the number 38.

2. The score. Points trump pretty much everything else in life.

3. Associating with Kenny, the team’s leading scorer. If Kenny runs laps around the track at the after party, you run laps too. Kenny is like Michael Jordan. Except better.

4. The girl practicing high jump at the other side of the track. She is very interesting.

Surprisingly unimportant things:

1. Cartter scoring his first basket of the season with 90 seconds to go in the final game. Apparently, it doesn’t matter where the points come from so long as Cartter’s team gets more of them.

2. Donuts. Who cares about donuts? Look what Kenny’s doing!

3. Medals. Honestly, we should all just give our medals to Kenny.

Shared Concern: Growing and strengthening our social network.

Despite the Davis’s of the world, the “fun-damental” league has been phenomenal. We lucked out with the group of kids, parents, and coaches we were assigned, and both Danyelle and I actually hope to continue to see them now that the season is over. Cartter drew up a roster of his teammates with their numbers next to their names to commemorate the season. He loves the 76’ers, and his sadness about the team’s disbandment is obvious.

College of Charleston Basketball Game:

Things important to me:

1. The absence of a seatback and the angle of the bleachers.

2. Avoiding the stadium bathroom.

3. Not having a bunch of crap in my hands.

4. Watching the game to the end.

5. The band. Yes, I really enjoy what the band brings to a college basketball game. It’s great.

Things important to the kids:

1. The free XL t-shirts on our seats that hang down to their shins when they put them on.

2. The promotional events that happen during stoppages.

3. The cheerleaders. When attending Chattanooga basketball games as a young child, I watched only the cheerleaders, so I quickly notice when the boys’ attention drifts in their direction.

4. Concessions. The fact that we only bought the boys chips, popcorn, and blue Gatorade was, I think a bit disappointing. I always liked the nachos best when I was a kid.

5. Watching the game, but not to the end. There are points, which is awesome, but hunger trumps the ultimate outcome.

Surprisingly unimportant things:

1. The DJ. He’s very loud, but he doesn’t really add much, and he cuts into the band’s time.

2. The beer. The sight of everyone around me drinking and the memory of so many sporting event beers tempt me, but alcohol is not necessary to enjoy the spectacle that is a college basketball game.

3. The cursing frat boys surrounding us in the general admission section. The boys do not care a whit about the F bombs going off in the row behind us, and I’m happy to be seated somewhere that I’m guaranteed not to be the most obnoxious person.

Shared Concern: Spending time together.

Walking up to the stadium, I was surprised by my lack of anxiety. In the past I would have felt pressure to recreate some kind of ideal experience that existed in my mind, to enter this event into the annals of my personal lore, to be a spectator of significance, to make a difference. Now, ushering the boys to a spot in the bleachers, watching them walk around with their free T-shirts draped over them like oversized tunics, I realize it’s not about me. They’re happy just being there, and I don’t have to do anything. The game was fantastic, and I enjoyed being part of a raucous crowd, but the highlight was probably walking around the upper rim of the stadium with the boys at halftime, checking out the outdoor pavilion, and trying to get Danyelle to notice us waving to her from across the court. Go Cougars.

The Super Bowl:

Things important to me:

1. The thought of my father-in-law being really angry every time the Chiefs made a play. I get a kick out of that.

2. Seeing Patrick Mahomes chip away at all-time nerd Tom Brady’s “best ever” reputation.

Things important to the boys:

1. Points. Always points.

2. Taylor Swift’s team losing so that the girls at school have to eat crow.

3. That when the players smash into each other they don’t look hurt at all.

Surprisingly unimportant things:

1. The halftime show. Only Danyelle seems to care about that.

2. Pretty much everything as evidenced by these Scottyisms (and my responses) sprinkled throughout the first quarter: “Why is there always a timer?” (The game is timed.) “Who’s yelling?” (The quarterback.) “What’s he saying?” (I don’t know. Makes nonsense sounds.) “Why do they have gloves on?” (I don’t know.) “Why is it still zero to zero?” At that point, with four minutes to go in the first quarter, Scotty’s interest was all used up.

Shared concern: Remaining somewhat tethered to the world around us.

Unfortunate as the Super Bowl is insofar as its overly produced commercialism and glorification of violent aggression and groupthink, the fact remains that it enjoys undeniable cultural relevance, and neither the boys nor I want to be the dorks who don’t know what’s going on. So we watched some of it. The boys went to bed on time, but Danyelle and I actually turned the TV back on to see who won and ended up watching the end of regulation and overtime. I laughed thinking how pissed Danyelle’s dad must have been.

Conclusion: Science knows. So those are my scientific findings. Nothing really revelatory in the “what actually matters” department. The evidence points to family and community. Kind of a duh there. The “unimportant” findings are perhaps more interesting, as they include beer, the Super Bowl, my kid’s athletic performance, and possibly, in a disturbing twist, this blog. I guess science really is better at disproving things, especially itself.