Yesterday my dear friend Emily and I went to the JV and varsity basketball games. Emily's roommate Jordan is the assistant coach at Independence High School here in Provo. It's a low-income area and she helps through some outreach program.
So Emily and I go and watch the JV game, enjoying the game and the rank smell of adolescence that surrounds us. Our team crushes the other team. (They are in a private school district and the school they were playing was a math/science school. And they looked like it. Wow.) We were much, much bigger than the other boys.
Then before the varsity game, Jordan asked me and Emily if we could run the clock. (Apparently the person who did it during the JV game had to leave.) I was excited and the prospect of learning a new skill and helping out.
I was sorely disappointed.
Running the clock/scoreboard was one of the worst experiences of my life. I ran the clock. Emily ran the scoreboard. Everyone was yelling at us the whole game. The fans were really mean and I almost had a panic attack every time I looked up at the clock to make sure it was running. A second is a long time, people. Twice I forgot to start the clock and I got a sinking feeling that someone would start yelling at me. Don't worry. They did.
And it smelled.
And I had to use the bathroom in the women's locker room, that the other team was using.
And it smelled.
And the other team's coach was mean.
And our team lost.
I started clinching my jaw and my heart was racing I was so stressed. Emily was broken out into a cold sweat.
We had to get out of there as soon as the game was over for fear of retribution.
But then we went to Emily's and at mint M&Ms and watched part of an episode of Gilmore Girls. Then we went to Wendy's and got some comfort food.
We felt better after that. But we will never again attend an Independence High School basketball game.