I got a little overexcited while I was watching D.J.’s basketball team play today, because I could see they had a chance to win.

It’s a good thing the kids couldn’t hear me yelling at them. They don’t even hear their coach telling them where to go and where to stand, so obviously anything shouted from the opposite sideline isn’t likely to penetrate the fog. Besides, they’re too busy chatting with each other and fooling around to care. Which of course is the problem (my problem, not theirs, because they don’t care).

They didn’t win. They took an eight-point lead in the third quarter, 20-12, which is amazing considering the fact they hadn’t led by more than two points in any other game they’ve played all season. They didn’t know they were leading, or what the score was, or anything else about the game except which basket they were supposed to be shooting at. That’s the one variable they managed to keep straight for once.

The other team scored ten straight points to take a two-point lead late in the game. Our kids came back with a last minute basket that gave them a 22-22 tie, which is how the game ended. At least, that’s how I saw it. I don’t know what the official scorer’s guess was, but I was watching fairly closely. At least it was the first time they didn’t lose (I think).

The problem is that they have two teams. The starters play with the kind of fiery intensity you love to see in six-year-olds, and there are a couple of kids who have a strong feeling for the game and know what they’re supposed to do. It’s a pleasure to watch them because they do things the right way (although without the skill and control they’ll have when they’re older).

And then there is the second time, the reserves, the non-starters. The half of the team that D.J. plays on. This group often looks as if it would rather be picking daisies than playing basketball, and that’s pretty much the way the game goes when they’re in. Most of the time it’s comical, but the contrast was almost a little too much for me today.

That’s why I was yelling. Get back! Guard him! Go to the ball! Get open!. These are all things they’ve worked on in practice, so I’m not out of line thinking they should have a little better idea of what they’re supposed to do. They should have been doing it without anyone yelling at them.

Were they having fun? Of course. Do they know how frustrating it can be to watch them play the way they do? Of course not. My comment to D.J. after the game was the same as always. “Good game.” And he did make an effort at times, when he thought about it, when he wasn’t distracting himself with something totally unrelated, when he didn’t have his hands in his pockets. He got a couple of big rebounds and dribbled up the court better than I’ve seen him do before.

So it wasn’t a disaster, and I’m happy with the progress he and his teammates are making. They’re worlds better than they were when the season started. It’s just that I think they could be even better, and would probably have more fun if they tried to stay focused on what they’ve been taught by their coach.

But that’s my problem, and I know it. What I’m really saying is that I would have more fun if they played that way, and there’s no reason they should care about that.

Kylie watched the game without making any comments. I guess she has a little more patience than I do, or maybe she knows her brother well enough to appreciate his efforts without judgment. Aiden spent most of the game marching up and down the sidelines, entertaining the troops. When he got a laugh jumping up in the air and landing square on his little round bottom, he had to be distracted from doing it over and over. It might not have hurt him, but it was painful for the rest of us to watch.