I received a phone call a few Fridays ago from one of my very best friends in the whole world. Alison and I have been friends since 1st grade and we played basketball together from 3rd grade through our Senior year. We talk often and get together when we can. Well, Al called me with a proposition this particular Friday morning and within 2 hours I had packed my car, twins in tow, and was headed to Yakima for a historic event.
We were going to attend the final game in our beloved West Valley High School gym. They are building a new high school and gym that will be up and running this fall. We have several memories in that gym. The picture above is the two of us our Senior year, the night we won the District Championship. We continued that season undefeated until the semi-finals in state. We were upset, suffered a heartbreaking loss and came back the next day to take 3rd for our final game together. Alison went on to run track and play basketball at Washington State University.
Our memories are endless with most of them revolving around our "glory days" during basketball season. It just wouldn't have been right if we had not attended the final game in the WVHS gym together (even if we both felt a little lame for going). We spent most of the night catching up with each other and visiting with a few people we recognized. The highlight was being asked for my student I.D. (Obviously Mrs. H. has sold one too many tickets and is basically senile, but I'm taking the compliment at face value.) The low-light was not receiving the commemorative t-shirts we ordered. They ran out. Bummer.
Oh well, we had fun reminiscing and pretending we were cool again.
Our team's final photo in the gym. If you look closely, we're holding pieces of the net we cut down. It seems silly now, but it was a big deal then.
My parents and me on Senior night. My parents NEVER missed a game. Well, unless you count the time that my Dad chose to attend Brent's Regional wrestling match over my game our Junior year. Don't worry, Dad. I'm not holding a grudge for that one...
7 comments:
Great post except that it is highly inaccurate. I didn't "miss" your game for Brent's wrestling--I was just a little late. As I recall, I arrived during the 4th quarter and was part of the critical fan base that successfully cheered you through a thrilling overtime victory. So...I am actually giving myself props for being enthusiastically supportive in such a manner that you were able to prevail. Who knows what might have happened had I not shown. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I didn't realize how good you were at basketball! That's awesome you got to go to the last game in the old gym. High school days are always funny to look back on.
I can't believe your dad chose Brent's wrestling match over you! I'd never let him live that one down :)
gotta love the tall scrunchy socks darc. you and al were the cutest. and i think i remember dad missing a few of my games for wresting as well....
Hey Syd, this isn't a dog pile and besides I have real feelings!To make my point, I was coaching your most excellent Brother. Please remember that you were not an only child. I have only missed my daughters games to coach family members in wrestling--Brent and Shea.
True, Dad. I guess you're lucky that I married Brent so you could have such a clean record there.
Julie, sadly, I was just lucky enough to have talented teammates. We had a blast, no matter how much I personally contributed.
Where is the orange scruchy?
Chels,
The beloved orange scrunchy is mounted behind alarmed glass in the Smithsonian. Haven't you seen it there lately? OK, actually it's in my bathroom drawer. Sometimes I let the boys chew on it while I'm trying to blow dry my hair. Not exactly royal treatment for such a worthy lucky charm.
Post a Comment