Well, how about I do?
#3 son, Clinton eats, sleeps and breathes basketball.
He comes home from football, or track practice and shoots baskets in the driveway. I've seen him do it in the rain, in the dark, in the heat and in the cold.
So this year, he wants to be in a summer league. Most of his friends are doing it. Particularly, from my point of view, the desirable friends, are doing it. It didn't cost a lot of money, and they only practice on Sunday.
OK, we'll do it.
Well it turns out the team practices in Seadrift.
Seadrift is a little coasting fishing town about 2o miles from here. Practice is from 6:00 to 8:00 every Sunday.
I drive him there, drive back home, wait about an hour then turn around and go get him. Not really a very efficient way to do things. Week before last, practice was canceled. This week, I decided to stay in Seadrift while they practiced, so I could save the gas. Good thing I did. The coach never bothered to show up. He didn't call, didn't bother to let anyone know. Most of the kids on the team are from Port Lavaca. Everyone showed up except the coach. Lots of unhappy parents.
We are no longer in Summer League. Maybe next year.
But I did get a few pictures I like.
A little lagoon by the harbor.
Catamarans on the shore
All fishing villages need a few resident artists
I've been trying to get this post up for a week, but blogger didn't like the pictures. Anyway, The coach was a flake, and driving all that way for nothing more than a couple of times is out of the question.
Especially on Sunday afternoon.