Sports - The Middle Years (a reluctant beginning)

Before I ramble on about the next phase in my sporting history (of no real importance to anyone but me and my future biographer), I will give some updates.

1) Have found new flatmate! Potential Flatmate #1 has agreed to move in next weekend. He was stoked. Lovely phone manner, if that's an indication of anything.

2) There is no #2. It just seemed silly to have a list with only one item in it. And I do love lists...... Heck, I'll make up a #3 and #4 just for fun.

3) Anyone wanna sell us a washing machine on the cheap? Exiting-flatmate took hers with her today.

4) I watched the Tall Blacks game last night - lost by 2 in overtime. We weren't impressed by their offence (me, Matt and his baller flamate). They really do need more options than 'pass it round the perimetre and shoot a three-pointer'. And they seriously need to put a leash on Tony Rampton and remind him he's not in the team for his outside shooting. The defence was ok and they showed good heart at the end of regular time to make their mini comeback. And I still love Phil Jones.

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Then I discovered 'basket-ball'.

Morgue reckons he read somewhere that some genius guy said basketball was the most scientifically perfect game ever invented. I like that theory. Adds some weight to my 'It's Jeff Wilson's favourite sport' argument.

Recap of last installment:
When we left young Kate, she was entering Intermediate, having never played organised sport of any kind (not counting her doomed forrays into ballet and gymnastics). It looked like she would forever be an unco-ordinated nerd with no 'jock' credibility.......

At intermediate there was an inter-class basketball tournament. You had to have girls on the team. I was tall, so they picked me. I discovered that without even trying, I had a propensity for blocking shots. The Gollums had to be good for something! They ended up just telling me to stay back on defense and do that all game (possibly partly inspired by me being incredibly unfit, but still a compliment to my prowess). I even blocked Chico Graham (a 'cool' guy who eneded up playing in the NBL and has a kick-ass first name, don't you think?). I was like the Forrest Gump of shot-blocking.

I went home and told my mum. Mum was very excited that I was finally taking an interest in playing sport. She seized the opportunity and was like a dog with a bone......
Mum: So, do you want me to ask if you can play in a team at school? I teach a lovely girl who has a team......
Me: NO!
Mum: (A week later) I got you into a team! They play tonight!
Me: NoooooooooooOOOOOOooooOOOO! [Imagine my early-teenage whine]

She MADE me play for a college team, even though I was only 12. I almost had a tantrum (my friend Fifi will remember this vividly). I told her she would have to take me down kicking and screaming. I was a shy child and the thought of playing with strangers, let alone COLLEGE aged strangers playing against ADULTS, petrified me.

Anyhow, she did drag me down (kicking and screaming). And I told the lady taking the team that I'd just 'sit and watch'. She would have none of that. 'Best way to learn is to just get out there!' she said. So I was sent on, in my Adidas trackies (bear in mind, these were the days before I relented and let my mum buy me my first bra - even though I had needed one for months). I kinda had fun even though I had no idea where to stand or what to do and didn't dare take a shot. That team was called 'The Black Rose B' (ironically sponsored by a bricklaying company). That was one good thing about Levin at the time. The basketball league was very 'grass-roots' and you could just chuck a team of kids in there playing against adults, or make up a team of your friends. You just can't do that in Wellington. I think back then we were in the women's D grade. Nowadays I think they struggle to get one grade of teams.

It was a great bonding activity for me and my brother. I credit it with helping us get out of the 'crabby-Katie' phase, where we used to fight a lot since I turned about four and became bossy. Apparently before that I used to adore my brother and if anyone gave me anything I'd say, 'And one for my brother too?'. We had a free-standing basketball hoop in the back-yard and he took me out and taught me how to shoot. He was incredibly patient and I still use some of the tips he gave me with the kids I coach. The key tip is that when you're learning a new shooting style, don't worry about the shot actually going IN. Just worry about the form of the shot.

In third form I was still playing for the Black Rose B. I would go up and watch my brother play in the Palmerson North league every Friday. A few of my Black Rose B teammates were in the school team too. We would watch them and I would think, 'Wooooow - they're good'. Some point late in the season they had a tall player who was about to go back to Germany, her exchange coming to an end. My mum helpfully said, 'Oh! You could get Kate to come and play - you need a bit of height!' So she came home and said, 'Kate - the coach of the Senior A wants you to go to practices and start coming to the games'.

Again, I was nearly kicking and screaming. So I was in the Senior A, without even trialling. And I became the tallest player in the team, even as a 3rd former. I still had my uncanny knack for shot blocking and rebounding. I still was petrified to shoot the ball. But, as an un-coordinated, unfit third former, I was one of the few kids in my year group playing for a top sports team at school. Odd how things work out.

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Side-note: The dumbest gratuitous dunking injury ever

When I was in form two my brother's team won the only Palmerston North boys' championship in school history. He was the 'rookie' of the team, being only 14. On the day of the final him and the other 'ballers' were out on the school-yard playing a pick-up game. Damon McDonald, one of the older kids, starting goading him to do some dunks for them. He was the only one in the whole school who could dunk. He gave in......

But it turns out the outdoor-hoops were jagged and rusty, and he ended up scraping the skin off of all of his fingers. It looked painful. On the day of the final.

The team ended up having several players foul off, and my brother had to take the court for the last minute of the game (hands swabbed in bandages) with my mum yelling out, 'For God's sakes - DON'T pass him the ball!' (she tended to get excited and yell out embarrassing things during games).