Mother ettiquette and Junior Jazz

So Tate signed up to play Junior Jazz basketball on a city recreation team. I was thinking this would be a great introduction to basketball and seeing as we had such a good experience with baseball we thougt Tate would love the new experience. Tate enjoys signing up for soccer, but he's just as interested in the dandelions as the ball so I was pleasantly surprised that he was actually pretty good at basketball. It is really the only sport we watch as a family. Apparently watching the Tar Heels paid off a bit.

He had a basketball game today and apparently some teams take the title "Jr. Jazz" literally. I knew we were in trouble when the other team was there five minutes early warming up doing lay ups. I don't think half the kids on our team knew what a lay up was. The average opponent's height was 6 inches taller than our kids, and I could tell it was going to be ugly.

It was 28 to 0 before we ever scored. My blood started to boil as the parents on the other team kept on cheering and egging on their team to "steal the ball," "block him out," and other such defensive commands. The rule of the league for this age group is that teams can't guard in the back court so it was a wall right across the half court line. All six members of the opposing team stood guard to steal away the ball as soon as our players crossed the line. It wasn't till the third quarter when the score was 34-2 when I could take it no longer and stood up and started to yell from across the court, "Hey coach, how about you let them shoot?" They clearly made their statement. Out of sportsmanship and the fact that they are seven, I didn't think letting them shoot one time before the pirrahanas were let out was too much to expect. I only made it half way through before Jon grabbed my coat and I sat back down. It wasn't that he disagreed, but pointed out that the boys were happy and getting upset would only get them upset. My mother ettiquette obviously needs to improve a bit.

It said it all when it was time for team treats. Our kids went out to the lobby and had a capri sun and sliced apples and oranges. The other team got to pick out a treat sack that was piled in a huge basket and set out at center court for everyone to see. Each treat bag had been carefully packed with a fruit snack, bouncy ball, glow in the dark stick, sheet of stickers and assorted candy with an enormous bow around the top.

Are parents this stupid and competitive everywhere else in the world, or did we happen to get more than our fair share in Utah?