Watching Harrison, Too

I know you were expecting to read about the conclusion of Rachel's sports career, but I wanted to get something in here about my baby boy. I will be back to finish Rachel.

Swimming, for both kids, started at a private pool where my little boy sat on the edge, visibly shivering with teeth chattering, and a giant frown plastered on his sweet little face. With absolutely no body fat, floating didn't come easy, this I was well aware of.  It was years ago. that I was that thin, and I’ve had a TBI, but I remember that well. He absolutely despised water on his face, so the 1st thing he did when surfacing, even in the bath, was to wipe the water from his eyes with tight little fists.  And, staying warm was also an issue. So since the outdoor pool didn't seem like the place he'd learn to swim, the next summer we tried group lessons at the YMCA.

He made gains on the swimming front, and I met the cousin of a close, childhood friend. Her boy was in the class too, and she and I became close friends.  Our boys even took semi private lessons together.  As moms, we were sent upstairs, to watch the lesson from behind a large glass window. But, semi private meant one instructor with our two small boys, so we were more relaxed than when there had been a group of wigglers.

One day the instructor had a cold, and was not actually in the water with the boys.  Up until then, she had been, and we had become very comfortable behind our window. We were chatting away, when I looked down to the pool, and saw the swimmers were close to where their feet did not touch the bottom of the pool. My new friend was Patti, and her son was sent to swim the width of the pool, which he did.  And then it was Harrison’s turn, but I knew he wouldn't make it across, just yet.  I was afraid he'd panic, not being able to touch the bottom.  But I was behind a window, far above the pool, and even though I wanted to yell Hey, he won't be able to do that...yet!!!  No one at pool level would hear me.  As Harrison went under, the instructor appeared to yell something. Maybe along the lines of, don’t drown on my watch!  He did surface, and he caught the floaty she threw to him.  Why this episode didn’t deter him, I’m not sure, but as long as James would be at swim lessons, he would too.

He and James kept at it, and by the end of the semi privates, he was fairly safe, and was even enjoying, at least, playing in the water. He had spent 2 summers in lessons, and I had seen enough to know that he took after me, when it came to water; I liked being in it, but was never actually a swimmer.

His next sporting adventure, also at the YMCA, was when he learned the game of basketball.  Before the school bus came remember each morning, we would shoot hoops in our drive way.  But then we had a huge wind storm, and even though the standard's base was filled with water, it didn't make it.  Our morning practice sessions ended when the heavy standard was blown over and the glass back board shattered.

Harrison tried soccer too.  We thought after 2 years of watching his sister, he needed his own chance. The 1st coach he had was the father of an experienced soccer player who was, you guessed it, a member of the team. They had come to our tiny town up by the border from a big city in California, and the dad did a great job - show casing his son that is.  But he would yell at the other little boys the entire game. He would shout vehemently to go right (or left)!!! Or Stay right (or left)!!! They were still at the age where kids still wrested with the directions right, and left.

He told the kids to stay where he put them (he quickly gave up position names) and at their age, they did just that, checking out the bugs on the field, and the clouds in the sky.  They were good listeners, and didn't move from that spot, as long as they were entertained.  Needless to say, my little man wasn't sure he'd ever play soccer again.  The next year I cajoled a dad, Jerry, into coaching the team.  He was the single parent father of my son's good friend, Chas, who convinced Harrison to play too.  See, there was method to my madness.  Harrison got excited to play the game he had only watched, and with Chas! Chas’ dad agreed to coach, only if I helped out, though.

I’m glad Jerry left the paper work and phone calling to me, and took on the actual coaching himself.  I guess he realized a disabled mom who had never played soccer, could only do so much.  But because I had watched a lot of soccer, and had an athletic background, I did a pretty good job of faking it on the side lines.  The season flew by and everyone had a heckuva time, which should be the focus of all youth sports, right?

After soccer Jerry got the notion to put together an AAU basketball team to compete in the big city of Bellingham, and other towns around ours.  Harrison, of course, was on the team.  Now, remember the boys were still young, and every game seemed to include a fallen player, whose piercing cries let everyone in the gym know that some catastrophic injury has been incurred. But soon the dropped Harrison got up, and skipped back into play.  My son’s dad called it The Crying League. 

Jerry’s team did indeed have fun, and at the last game, of the last tournament, all the player’s moms were cheering for Harrison to make a basket, which he did.  At least that’s how I remember it, but I am a proud mom who has had a head injury, so who knows how it actually ended.

The last memory I have regarding my sweet boy and basketball, was after our move to Boise.  He won the Ugliest Shoes award at basketball camp. I was particularly proud because he had picked them out himself.  I had tried to discourage him, but he liked that they were unattractive ( actually just a real weird color.)  

We still have baseball, football, and track to cover.  Stay tuned.