passing the ball to mom

In every family, one parent is a sports fan. Usually, it is the Dad.

That was not true in our family. Our Dad taught Darrel and me several skills every boy should know. How to be a good Boy Scout. How to sharpen a knife. How to properly treat firearms. And how to avoid being a defensive driver.

But, when it came to sports, our Mom ruled. And still does.

She developed a love for basketball during her Powers High School days -- a love she has never abandoned. She taught us how to play baseball in our back yard and cheered us on in our benighted little league careers. But it was basketball that thrilled her.

When the Portland Trailblazers rolled into town in 1970, she immediately jumped on the fanwagon and has been there ever since. She lived in Portland then, and often attended the games. Television is now the mainline for her addiction.

I have always enjoy watching games with her. It reminds me just how tribal sports can be. Referees are forever making bad calls to the cost of her beloved Blazers. And the referees are not simply mistaken, they are intrinsically evil. They all gamble on the games, you know.

This year was a special visit for me. It is playoff time. I sat through the five games of the Portland-Oklahoma City shootout. It was good basketball made even nicer by sharing it with my 91-year old mother, who knows more about the game than most of the commentators. Her vocabulary certainly is better.

Last night the Blazers advanced to the second round of the playoffs. If you have read your sports pages, you already know it was one of the most exciting games of the season -- with the score see-sawing back and forth the entire game only to have the outcome decided by an improbably half-court shot at the buzzer. Such games are fought to be remembered around future campfires.

It was a nice way to sum up my visit this week. Amazon finally delivered my new Surface yesterday afternoon, and my head cold has settled enough to let me fly this Thursday and Friday.

But, best of all, my Mom has kept me interested in one of her true joys in life. And sharing another's passion is about as good as life gets.

For Mom, it is one three-point shot after another.