Thursday night was Corbin and Cornelius’ first basketball game. If you read the sad-but-true story of their last practice, then you won’t be surprised to learn that the actual game wasn’t all that pretty. The final score was 12-10 – and my boys were on the losing side.
My boys do not like to lose.
The started to tear up when the score was announced, and one of the mothers on the team noticed and said, “Look! Isn’t it great how emotionally invested they are in the game? How cute!”
To which Mrs. Cornell, who knows our sons all too well, said, “It won’t be cute in a moment.”
And then the moment came.
“CHEATERS!!” screamed Corbin at the top of his lungs. “DIRTY ROTTEN CHEATERS!!”
Cornelius got in on the action, too, both of them hectoring the winning team, who stared at my boys with looks ranging from befuddlement to barely stifled laughter. As the two losers were dragged forcibly down the stairs of the gym and out to the parking lot, the screams continued and amplified in intensity.
The boys went to bed two hours early, and still, they cried themselves to sleep. “Why can’t we just play soccer?” Cornelius asked. “We always win soccer.”
The Cornells need a lesson in sportsmanship. They should probably learn at the feet of my daughter Chloe, who played her basketball game this morning. They lost, too.
The score was 54-4.
Chloe came home cheerful and went off and played with her American Girl dolls. (If you are looking for the NBA stars of tomorrow, I would advise you not to turn your attention to the Cornell family.)