Getting Involved in GMC Hoops
My kid begged me to sign him up for the GMC Boys Basketball Tournament 2025 months ago. Thought it’d just be rec league stuff but nah, ended up being intense. First practice rolled around in my buddy’s dusty garage court. Swept cobwebs off the backboard, duct-taped the hoop rim where the net hung loose. Kid dribbled like he was stomping roaches, so I showed him how to palm that ball soft like holding eggs.
Tournament Week Chaos
Game day came quicker than expected. Packed gym reeked of sweat and popcorn. Five teams crammed into two courts. Our boys faced the county champs first. Whistles screamed non-stop, refs called traveling every 30 seconds. Boys kept crashing into each other like bumper cars. Timeout huddles were just me yelling “PASS THE DANG BALL!” while wiping Gatorade splatters off my clipboard.
Semi-Final Nightmare
Made it to semis by pure luck. Opposing coach brought ringers from another district, six-foot eighth graders with mustaches. Our point guard hyperextended his knee trying a crossover. Had to shove ice packs down his sock while yelling plays over screaming parents. Lost by twenty points. Post-game snack table looked like a tornado hit it:
- Dented orange coolers leaking water everywhere
- Half-eaten pizza slices stuck to bleachers
- Some kid crying over spilt Capri Suns
Aftermath Reflection
Thought I’d feel crushed losing semis but honestly? Seeing our boys high-five rivals post-game changed everything. My kid found me sweaty and hoarse: “Dad that benchwarmer finally scored!” Tournament taught me youth sports ain’t about trophies. Tore up my typed playbook that night. Next season? We’re playing driveway pickup rules. Just show up, laugh at bad shots, keep moving after makes.
Why write this mess down? Cause while hosing garage floor stains today, three neighborhood kids rocked up asking if we’re “doing that tournament practice again”. Tossed them the ball keys. That’s the real win right there.