Thundered Up

My sister and brother-in-law took their kids and grandkids skiing the week before Christmas. They left their courtsisde seats to the Thunder v. the Chicago Bulls with me, the Hub, the baby sister and her Hub.I am not much of a basketball fan.

 Though in high school I cheered at basketball games, I relied on the head cheerleader to call the cheers. The cheers and chants, I knew. The intricacies of the game... not so much.

None of my kids played basketball. We are not so tall, you see. The Hub played some but at a different school than the one I cheered at so I didn't learn from observing or having discussion with him.

I should have talked to someone who could have given me some idea about what I would be watching.

The seats were amazing. We sat right behind the players and two rows of guys in suits with clipboards and/or folders who turned out to be coaches.

The baby sister said we would not be eating or drinking anything because we would likely be on ESPN and be seen by our other sister, the seat owner/ticket bestower and we might not look dignified if captured doing one or the other. 

I really wanted to be on the kiss cam, though the baby sister said that would just be weird. I wasn't going to kiss her. I was going to blow a kiss to the other sister and brother-in-law, the seat owner/bestowers who may or may not have been watching from their ski resort condo in Colorado.

The food we were served before the game was likewise excellent. Yet, I could not keep from wishing I had a basket of the chicken strips I saw at a kiosk coming into the arena. It being less than a week before Christmas, I wanted to wear a Thunder Santa hat like the one my Thunder Sister and her Thunder fan family had on in their Christmas card photo. We search for one, but alas, there was none to be had. One of the information guys who my little sister befriended (or who befriended her, perhaps) said they'd been sold out "for the last four games."

I did find a Rumble hat in one of the gift shops and tried it on but the baby sister said absolutely I could not wear it on the floor in our sisters seats. Something was said about shaming her. I would never.

Rumble, the Thunder's mascot, it turns out, was my favorite. Unless you count the cool little referee who I mistakenly called an umpire. At first I thought he was a player since he had a number on his back. He about got KO'd in the first half and when I wondered aloud about him returning to the game I was told by the baby sister, who thinks she knows everything, that he was not a player. 

I will admit that though she bossed(es) me around, spending time with her was the best part of the whole evening.  The other sister posted that we were not supposed to sit together, rather with our husbands. She thought we might get into trouble much the same as we used to in church, which is why Mother sat the middle/other sister between us.

We really didn't though. Not too much, anyway. 

We were mindful that any antics might be captured on live tv.

We resisted many urges and I don't mean just chicken strips and wearing a Rumble hat out into the arena.

But I dare not disclose more here. 

The little sister said there are things that happen at the Thunder games that should stay at the Thunder games.