The fact that I'm currently posting means I have survived.
However, I have a quick little note I'd like to write to someone while I'm still
Pull up a chair...it could get interesting. Grandy is about to get... UN-EDITED.
You have coached my son in Basketball for 2 years as a head coach. You coached him one year as an assistant coach. You even coached him in T-Ball for 2 years when he was a wee lad and still picking the daisies in the outfield.
So please tell me...no wait...ENLIGHTEN me as to how I am to explain to my son why you decided that this year he was not good enough for the team. Why you chose to cut 3 of the 7th graders on the 7th grade team, in order to put 3 of the 6th graders on the team? What the hell is this crap about you wanting to start a "core" team for next year?
I am about to sound like a disgruntled parent who whines when her son doesn't get his way. Well for once I am going to say HELL YEAH I'M PISSED!! Grandy is inserting no flippin' diplomacy tonight.
How is it that you promised a spot to a boy (who I will grant you is very talented) who broke his collar bone 2 days before try-outs and can't even play for 4-6 weeks?
YOU explain to my boy why you chose a kid who has NEVER played basketball before over these kids. Living in this small town, I get how you grow to know so many of them.
What about thanking him for begging his mom to take him to try-outs even though he's sick and sounds like a seal in heat. He busts his sick little a$$ for you and where is your own son tonight? Home...with the sniffles...but on the team.
Parents of boys who made the team were outraged at the way you've handled this thing, but Grandy is not going to complain to you in person. She would love to have her molotov moment with you, but will refrain. Grandy is not about to turn this into some sort of thing that would have a negative reflection on her son.
I'm all for competition, and have never been a big fan of equality for every kid because frankly some are better than others. But I will tell you this here...GET OVER YOURSELF!! THEY'RE EFFING 7TH GRADERS!!
As I comforted my broken-hearted 12 year old tonight, who has no voice but wanted nothing more than to just be a part of your team again, my maternal protection surfaced in my throat like vomit in a pregnant woman.
I will see you in town...I will be polite...but know this...I want to kick you hard.