Carrie Link

GO EAGLES!

"Mom," Rojo says Friday morning before school, "are you excited it is the weekend? Are you excited that you can watch me play my games all weekend long?"

"Uh huh," I answer mindlessly.

"Because I have a lot of games this weekend, and you get to watch them all! I have NBA, NFL, SEC and Pac 10! I have high school too, and I have some all-star games! Aren't you excited to watch me play all my games all weekend long?"

"Uh huh," I think I answer, not really sure, still in full denial that we already have a weekend after 2 1/2 days back to school from 2 1/2 weeks off.

First thing when he gets home Friday, "Mom, I have a game at 4:00, another one at 6:00 and another one at 7:30 tonight. Aren't you excited to watch those three games?"

A familiar tightness in my neck begins to emerge, my arms raise to massage it away, even though I know it won't really go away until 8:00 AM Monday when I see the back of him walking down the street to school.

"OK, so it's time to get ready for my 4:00 game. It is the Golden State Warriors and Boston College Eagles. Don't forget. Who do you want to win? Boston College? The Eagles? Are you going to cheer for the Eagles? Are they your favorite? Are you a fan of the Eagles? Because I am a fan of the Eagles, and I want the Eagles to win. They are going to win 35 to 28."

I walk down the steps to my basement as though I'm headed to the gallows. I systematically turn on all the right lamps, neither of us can stand the harsh glare of the overheads,and situate myself in the center of the futon. I place Elmo, the mascot for the Eagles on my left, and Sam, the pink Build-a-Bear and mascot for the Warriors, on my right. They are the cheerleaders, and when their teams score, I am to raise the appropriate mascot in wild excitement and shout, "Good job!" to their team. In. Their. Voices.

On my lap is the "score board." It is a small, 9x11 inch white board. Strict rules dictate that I am to write the names of the team on the top, mark the score as 0, 0 to start with, and then as he "announces" the teams I am to take note on the proper side of the board. Elmo and Sam must be extremely enthusiastic. In. Their. Voices.

We've got your Taylor Wilcox, Tyler Wilcox, Jordan McWhoo-ha and Michael, whose last name is whatever day of the week it happens to be. Elmo and Sam really love these names, and say so, repeatedly. In. Their. Voices.

There is no rhyme nor reason to the number of "halves" the game can have. Three is quite common. The game may or may not have halves of equal length. Overtimes occur frequently. Booth reviews, time-outs and slow motion all have been known to slow the game considerably. A typical game lasts 30 minutes. A typical game leaves my writhing in agony and Rojo smiling ear-to-ear. The more miserable I am, the happier he is.

Saturday we had games at 9:00, 11:00, 1:00, 3:00, 5:00 and 7:00. We also had scheduled trips to Safeway for bottles of water.

Today we've had games at 9:00, 11:00, 1:00, 3:00, 4:30 and two more coming up. We've been to Safeway today, too. Twice.

It's now Sunday at 5:47, and I better wrap this up. There's another game at 6:00, followed by the last game of the weekend at 7:30 tonight. At eight Sam, Elmo and I will tuck Rojo into bed. Sam and Elmo will stay with him. As I close his door and begin to feel myself sigh deeply, his last words will be, "Thanks, Mom for watching all my games this weekend. We really had fun, didn't we? Aren't you excited for my games after school tomorrow? There's a game at 4:00, 6:00 and 7:30~! Who do you want to win? Do you want the Eagles? Are you an Eagles fan?..."