I grew up watching basketball. KU basketball. I never missed a game and I’m pretty sure I was one of those kids who thought what I wore and when I wore it made all the difference if KU won or lost.
I even met a few of the players along the way… Scot Pollard (he was super cool), Paul Pierce (yep, I have my picture with him and an autographed picture) and Ryan Robertson (you’ve probably never heard of him, he was a point guard. And cute. But, he played the same years Jacque Vaughn played, so Robertson didn’t get as recognized. Did I mention he was cute? I was like 14.)
Anyway, my senior year of high school I met Preston. He was a wrestler. He wrestled all four years in high school, then he was an assistant coach for seven years after that.
He made fun of me when I talked about basketball. I made fun of him when he talked about wrestling.
Saturday night we watched the last four minutes of the KU-Ohio State game. It was an awesome four minutes. Intense. It made me remember why I loved watching KU basketball.
This morning Preston said, “you should dress Maddox in his KU onesie.” In our almost ten years of marriage I’ve never once heard him say anyone should wear KU. (;
Maya didn’t have anything KU, so I improvised. She got a red princess shirt and blue and white striped pants. She was pretty proud, she ran to show Preston, “Daddy look at me! I’m dressed in K-State colors.” Oops.
Preston said, “Very cute! I hope KU wins for Grandpa and Aunt Marilyn.”
And, why exactly is it wrestlers hate basketball?