Last Sunday, I brought my brother to XS for his basketball semifinals game. I was looking forward to shooting a few baskets myself that bright Sunday morning, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen as soon as I saw the traffic around school.

Apparently, there was a women’s volleyball tournament happening that day, and while I would normally embrace such a situation (specifically, a gym full of women in short-shorts), there’s a proverbial ring around my finger, and can you spell “statutory rape”? Watching all these student athletes in their element, I felt pangs of regret and jealousy. I could have probably made varsity had I wanted to; if my passions had been redirected sooner. Then there would be more to me than just my rapier wit and pretty boy-ness.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the XS team’s starting center making conversation with two volleyball players. The girls were most probably seniors and he was a freshman, but he towered over them in height. He is one of those guys who grow a full mustache at 12. It was really funny seeing these kids go at it. By then, one of the girls had her arm around him, and the other was giggling uncontrollably. And I thought to myself, “He got game.”

***

Just a little something I wrote a while back.

What I wouldn’t give for Brazil vacation packages.

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