Down by contact

Yesterday was the beginning of the basketball playoffs. And by luck of the draw the girls got to play the team that they have already lost to twice.

So we were not thrilled to be heading back to the gym that was the scene of the first massacre. The night that I had three girls screaming and swearing after the game. I believe the words, "You can do my MOM!" were screeched across the parking lot to which I responded, "Ewww". The guy keeping the book and running the scoreboard was blatantly partisan and failed to make notations about any of the fouls his team had committed. oh, and a couple of times, he forgot to start the scoreboard. It was exceptionally unpleasant.

When we played them in our home gym they got roasted as well. Pretty much as bad as the first time. Plus, the girls were scratched and bruised from the elbows thrown during the game.

Needless to say, we were not looking forward to last night.

And it was rough. The elbows were out in force. Girls were hitting the floor left and right. Lillith's friend Maire got her eye poked so she had to take out her contacts. Our girls were getting called for fouls that were being ignored when committed by the other team. A girl from the sidelines came running out while Drina was shooting foul shots. A technical foul. Which wasn't called. A girl pulled Lillith's glasses off her face and called her a skank. (That was called) another girl grabbed Drina in a hug from behind (that was called too).

To further complicated matters the other team have sixth graders (or maybe seventh graders... they don't have a 7th grade team) play "up" with the 8th graders. That is fine except we ended up with two girls at number 12 and two girls at number 13. On our team, we also have a number 13. So at one point there were three girls on the court wearing number 13. Our team was designated the "black" team and the other team was "blue" but it confused the normal way of calling fouls. Blue team number 13 elicited calls of "Which one?". We ended up with a system. Big 13 and Little 13 and Big 12 and Little 12. Insanity.

In the end, our girls managed to edge out these little thugs. Our girls were en fuego (naturally). And we, parents, well, we were relieved.

I am looking forward to a more civilized game... like rugby.