Peach Basket

Peach Basket Classic...
the ultimate sign of summer.
Hot, sweltering asphalt,
little heat waves rising from the blacktop,
sneakers pounding the pavement,
bouncing balls,
music pulsing,
jumping, leaping, blocking,
shouting, laughing,
shoulders pushing,
dripping sweat.

For about a zillion pics, click here:

Erik, Evy, Canute and Sonja made the trek over the mountains and across the wheat fields to join us again. It was like they never left. Canute took off with Quinn and Will, and we hardly saw him all Saturday. Kate and Sonja joined at the hip and had eyes for no-one else all weekend. It was good to be together again, although I was lousy company...this surgery stuff is for the birds. Never doing it again. I mean it. Never.

This year, Zach played with Seth, Andrew and Matthew...just like they've done since they were 8 years old. Matt was hurt, and couldn't play, but the other three wouldn't consider calling in a sub. Matt coached from the sidelines, smiling and laughing. They came up with the requisite crazy plays...doing bucket brigades and inbounding by slamming the ball against the backboard and all sorts of other globetrotterish kinds of things. The boys were quickly a crowd favorite. They had a great time, and entertained us all. They even got far enough to play on Sunday, which they didn't really expect.

Kate played with Allison, Matt's little sis, and two of her friends, Madeleine and Andrea. Joe (Allison & Matt's dad) coached them, and they were fabulous. They played really well and worked really hard. It was so much fun to watch them. Those girls are pretty competetive. We ought to have a great AAU season, as the team that took the girls out was 4 girls from their AAU team!

Uncle Bob played on a team and they did better than either of the kids, I think! Very impressive.

Presley played, too. So we had a lot of games to get to! It was a whirlwind of activity, and we had a great time, although I overdid it on Saturday. Kenny ran into one of his best friends from kindergarten who he hadn't seen in a few years.

We walked through downtown over and over and over (the two courts were F-A-R apart), played Dutch Blitz on Saturday night, had about six kids spend the night on Sunday and had a bonfire. We ate corn on the cob from Klickers and drank a lot of powerade. We had shaved ice, sandwiches from Merchant's, chocolate from Bright's and cotton candy from street vendors. The girls bought dumb little neck coolers and kept score at every game they could. The boys put graffiti all over their shirts, played the music too loud and played home run derby in the dark.

It's all good. Almost like it should be.

Even though it is August...
even though Peach will always remind me of Dave,
Dave, hale and hearty and cheering on the Road Warriors, Triple Crazy, Nothings from Nowhere, P.O.O.P...whatever they called themselves.
And Dave, beginning to fail, watching from his wheelchair,
his last outing,
the last time he cheered on kids,
the last time he greeted the people,
a smile and hug for everyone,
people drawn to him,
to his irresistible presence and energy,
to the smile in his eyes and
the warmth in his hugs,
reaching out to him,
because he made you feel like you mattered.

Peach Basket isn't the same without him.
But then again, nothing is.
But that doesn't mean it's not good.
It is. Mostly.