Last night, I went to Garrett’s basketball game. It was awesome because Garrett is really good at basketball and so he frequently stole the ball and I got to yell “Go GT,” while snapping dim pictures with my hand-me-down Blackberry (thank you, Walt).
In any case, let me describe for you the makings of a Scottish basketball court.
(Ok, so the gym at St. Andrews may not be representative of all Scottish basketball, but whatever).
First of all, there are multi-colored lines like a famous artist might have done in rectangular shapes on a canvas. There are white and red and orange and yellow and green lines. And black, too, maybe? Obviously, I had some trouble identifying which colors indicated the boundaries of the court, but as an audience member, I realized that my awareness of the boundary was less important. Except it wasn’t because actually, I was sitting on the ground about a meter away from the nearest line.
That was concerning only because it seemed possible that my head could intercept a wayward pass and demonstrate the concept of decapitation.
And really, I should be fair. I got there too late to compete for the prime seating. It was really nice prime seating, too, on what appeared to be red crates intended for step-up exercises. Honestly, red is so much classier than bleachers. If only red bleachers were a possibility, we could have the best of all worlds. WONDERFUL.
St. Andrews won. By a lot. The referee appeared to have a complex regarding her authority over others. As in, the referee appeared to want to be in charge of everything. I don’t think that’s Scottish, though, I think that has more to do with the mentality of volunteer or low-level referees.
It was also awesome because I made a friend who is a fourth year from Madrid/Michigan and obviously that is a fabulous combination. Also, I discovered that I am just as awkward at basketball games in this country as any other one. Apparently some things don’t change.