Cotton Candy and the Kings

Jeff's co-worker gave him four row ten seats to a Sacramento King's game last night. Row ten means you sit in the red chairs and you're close enough to see the sweat drip off the players. Exciting for some, but unfortunately not for us. After discussion we decided to bring the kids because neither Jeff nor I are big sports enthusiasts and paying a babysitter didn't seem worth it. Nicky and Andy broke into happy tantrums when told they would stay up late, go downtown, and watch a basketball game.

It's been years since my last ballgame. My dad was a diehard BYU fan; every Saturday of my childhood I was in a stadium. I'm uncoordinated and accident prone, so I wasn't good at sports and therefore uninterested in those who were. I'd just wait patiently for halftime to watch the Cougerettes and have a hot dog.

Last night we went to the Arco Stadium. The kids ate most of their snacks on the way up. The game was starting when we found our seats. I'd forgotten about the magnetism of a noisy, excited crowd. Though we'd never watched the Kings play before, we found ourselves moved to clap and cheer as if we were fans like everyone else. Crowds are powerful entities. I smiled when the chubby man behind us got so excited by a play he slammed his hands down on the empty chair next to Andy. Andy jumped a mile and wouldn't even look at the man when he apologized. By the end of the game though he was holding that man's hand and giving him high fives. Andy doesn't hold grudges long. I laughed whenever there was a bad play or the ref made a call against the Kings. Men from all around yelled things like, "lasik, LA-SIK!" Or, they cupped their mouths and yelled out ideas at the players or badgered them about their last move. I wondered what would happen if the players actually listened to the voices in the crowd instead of their coaches, maybe they'd do better. The yelling spectators certainly sounded confident in their assertions.

Timeouts brought out the beautiful Kings' girls, who were no Cougerettes. Times have changed or maybe dancing is just different without a BYU honor code in force. As the girls danced to the blaring music, "I got a feeling, tonight's going to be a good, good night..." they pumped and gyrated in tight hot pants and diaphanous purple hanky tops. I felt uncomfortable because by the way they shimmied I half expected them to lose some of their close. We were at a basketball game after all, not a seedy strip joint. Yikes! I told Nicky it was ugly dancing and we prefer beautiful ballerina dancing. I like how she is little so she agrees with everything I say. I could tell by looking around at the men in the audience that Nicky and I were in the minority with our opinion.

Despite the lewd interludes, it was an energizing experience for all of us. I loved the lion mascot on roller skates, the yelling and clapping, the vendors with their cotton candy poles, Nicky's big eyes and begging lips, the kids sitting on Jeff's lap with clapping hands and smiles, and Christian's overstimulated bug eyes. The basketball talent was so good that the Kings and Milwaukee Bucks went into double overtime before the Bucks finally won. The kids fell asleep on the car ride home complete with cotton candy in their hair and ketchup around their mouths. Jeff and I agreed that we need to attend games more often. They're fun. It must be because in this life there is opposition in all things and sports events just find a way to celebrate the inevitable. I still like the hot dogs too.