Gabby and I took in the final ASU basketball game of the season Saturday. While there, we saw one of her friends from school. His dad is a huge ASU basketball fan, and had seats just six rows behind the team’s bench. I asked if there was space to join him. There were. So down we went. I was so wanting Gabby to have some company.
Prior to the run in, we sat where we normally do – in a seat on the highest row at the top of the arena – doing what we normally do – stuffing our faces with popcorn and “Sprite” (actually Sierra Mist). Yet 10 minutes in Gabby got bored and wanted to “Go Home Now!” So I was thankful to bump into her friend.
Now, down at near-courtside, we had great views of the game, cheerleaders and dancers. But I was a bit unnerved when Gabby and her friend started yelling toward the ASU bench. Over and over they shouted three simple words, interrupted only by self-inflicted jubilation.
Hey, big man! (laughter) Hey big man! (laughter) Hey, big man! (laughter)
I felt like I was sitting with construction workers. Of course, to them, they were all big men, so I have no clue who they expected to turn around. They eventually stopped yelling and turned to other activities, including:
– Slamming down the spring-loaded seat bottoms, making them THAWK! back up.
– Dumping popcorn on the aisle and stomping every last piece to atoms
– Sliding down on said popcorn atoms until they landed THUD! on their bottoms
– Calling each other “stinky face” and pretend fighting
– Crawling on all fours under my seat to reach the “Sprite” and drinking from it like puppies
And at halftime, no surprise, Gabby stood on my lap and tried to keep up with these guys. No way that was happening, but she tried.