Always A Team

Every so often someone tells me they really like another friend, but her husband is a moron. This brings me back to one of my grandmother’s wonderful ditties. Does she sleep with him? Then they are the same.

Of course, she didn’t mean exactly the same. People have different personalities and different ways of displaying emotions. But when the chips are down, married people function as one. Most of the time. And depending on the length of the marriage. We all know people that tossed the spouse out after an unsuccessful short run. They are still looking for that other half. And, although my other half claims he is a perfectly innocent bystander, I know he’s just full of hot air.

Grandma’s theory also works on team sports. As my children have grown older and we have been on a bazillion different teams, it became apparent that most share a collective personality. Some coaches are laid back and have fun, and those parents clap for everyone and all sit around sipping Sonic cups that seem to make them more laid back with whatever they are sipping. Then there are coaches that blow an artery at a missed goal and the parents all wear leather and brass knuckles.

So last weekend I am at another of my son’s hockey games and sitting calmly and serenely next to my dear friend while knitting and wearing my flower necklace. I had not set a hotel on fire or had any dealings with police. Life was good.

The other team had a coach that suffered from a serious case of Tourette’s Syndrome and made me worry that when his arteries busted out of his head he would spray blood all over my knitting. My dear friend leaned over and said "You know with a coach like that, the parents are going to be a problem." I nodded and kept on knitting.

After the game, I walk out and see my friend being yelled at by a grandma on the other team. Grandma was getting quite aggressive and my friend kept telling her to just walk away. I paused and considered my options. I had not caused trouble this trip. Not needed the police. And was the picture of innocence. But this was my dear friend who had stood by me through thick and thin, fire and flood, police and National Guard. She needed help!

Not being in the emotionally charged frenzy of direct attack, gave me opportunity to have a plan. I could be helpful, but in the most sly of ways. I could be downright clever! So I decided the best plan would be to slink up behind the woman , who was aged and short, and just loom as a commanding and threatening presence. Then when she spun around for her grand exit, she would bump into me and get all flustered. I liked that, so I went and did my slinking.

Things happened perfectly. She spun around, crashed into me, and bumped backwards in stunned surprise. I gave her my most threatening, mom-of-jutjitzu-master glare. My friend grinned. Grandma marched off hollering a bevy of threats and profanity and yelling her boys had more class than we ever would. Her grandson also threw a bundle of profanity our way. I then informed Grandma how classy he was. She didn’t like that. At all.

But my friend was patting my back, and we had gathered a crowd of our own who were commending my slinky skullduggery. But then the boys came out and informed us they played that team the next day. And most of the parents had to go back to work. Plans were made to leave the boys with about 3 parents of which my husband and I were 2. That left me to deal with Very Angry Grandma by myself. But, not to worry, I could take her!

But then my friend informed me it wasn’t Grandma that started the fight. It was her daughters. She pointed to 2 extremely tall, truck drivers across the room. I gulped. And broke into a cold sweat. But then I brushed myself off and cast my loving gaze at the man standing by the window with hands in his pockets, whistling innocently, gaze locked at a spot on the ceiling. Because I knew that my other half, no matter how innocent he looked, had before and would again, always have my back.