Those who know me well understand that I really don’t function properly until at least 9 a.m. – 10 a.m. is better. I have my little morning routine of stretching and medicating and trying to get food down me so I have something to run on.

This (damn cold) morning was an exception to my usual agenda as my alarm woke me at 7:30, I rolled out of bed and right into the shower and got myself together in time to go wake my kid so she could get ready for the event of her week – basketball tryouts.

As a sixth grader she doesn’t have a school team to play on, so, like last year, she’s going out for the district team. She did great in tryouts and we’re pretty confident that she’ll make it. I think the highlight of her morning was that her coach from last year, a terrific guy we’ll just call Coach, greeted her right away with a “what-up Ali”, she is hoping to have him as coach again this year as well – me too for that matter; his family and he are good people.

Last year at this time I was still recovering from major foot surgery; getting four screws creatively inserted to hold my badly broken foot together. I was still using my canes and lamenting over the fact I couldn’t afford the bionic upgrade and had to settle for titanium screws.  I was flaring badly, quite sick and while I was supportive of my daughter, sports have never been my thing so I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this sudden schedule of games and crowds – not to mention hours of sitting on bleachers.

She is a fast learner and picked up the game quickly, she was a valuable player on her team during the season and most importantly, she had fun playing – once I figured out what was going on and I got more comfortable with the other parents – who were more like me (loud, tattooed, fun) than Stepford parents – I actually ended up really enjoying the games and really getting into the cheering (but no coaching from the sidelines, that’s the rule, only the Coach get’s to coach, it’s a fair rule, if hard to follow).

This was something I never had when my girl was in softball, it was a different crowd – one that I really didn’t wish to be a part of – mostly because they all seemed to show such little interest in the kids or anything for that matter other than upholstery swatches and which paper towels are best (no joke, I still can’t believe some of the mindless conversations I overheard while I was watching my kid play).

I’m not begrudging anyone their choice of social conversation to be honest, what always surprised me is that they rarely watched their kids play, there was very little if any parental fan support or cheering. Parents often missed their kid’s plays and so forth, it saddened me some which is why the basketball-parents crowd I fell in with last year made me so happy. My kid was on a team full of good kids with good parents taking an interest and cheering them on.

This year was a bit different for my girl and me; for starters we both knew what to expect – the lines and crowds of kids and parents combined with some confusion. This in mind we were actually a few minutes early, so our wait wasn’t bad at all. Then something unexpected happened, for me anyway. Right off the bat parents from last year spotted me and I was greeted warmly, as though we’d seen each other last week, not last season. We sat on the bench together watching the girls get put through their paces and I listened to the ones who knew far more than me, Mrs. Coach for instance, chat about the draft and the stats and ask around who had done what and we all agreed that it would be great if we could get the same group of girls, under Coach, for this year’s team, sans a girl who moved away.

I realized all of the sudden that not only had I awkwardly stumbled into a new community – I was excited about it. I can’t wait to see my girl play again and cheer with the other parents for each and every kid on the team and commiserate over bad calls and chatter, ok, gossip about the other coaches and teams. I remembered how I felt last season watching my kid make one hell of a basket from mid-court (or something far away from the basket, I’m still learning some terms and stuff, bear with me sport parents, I’m trying) during the final game of the season and how happy she looked with her team each time they got together.

Its funny how things sneak up on you, I never expected to be a sports-mama, but here I am – the mother of a 12-year old athlete and now I can’t think of a better way to spend my Saturdays than cheering on her and her team while they learn and play a sport they love. I always had a soft spot for those “trail and endurance” sports movies, I’ve seen Rudy at least 3 times and We Are Marshall rocks, but now I have a whole new perspective – now I can see the magic that comes with being a Sports Mom, cringing pridefully when they take a hit, standing to cheer and hollering until you’re hoarse.

The smell of basketball is in the air – and I can’t wait for the first game!