Good morning! No postings yesterday since I had to begin the two courses that I am teaching this summer. Since they are online, I will be glued to the computer trying impart some knowledge :-D
With that said, let's go back to the concept of an end of the year banquet. As much as I loathe attending them.....yep, after the first 15, they become fairly routine, yet the athletes need them for closure. The guys should have their hard work acknowledged publicly with their team mates, friends, and family in the audience. They worked all year until they bled, collapsed, or cried and should have one last opportunity to sit with the players and coaches that they came to know and love (and sometimes hate). It is a rite of passage in an athlete's life.
What happens at these banquets? Well, the word "banquet" is probably not the correct term. In fact, it is more like pasta, rubbery chicken, and unidentifiable meat with potatoes and green beans lathered in butter. Then there are rolls, a Caesar salad, and defrosted pie with coffee. The menu is always the same...no deviations.
Once dinner is over, the gang sit and listen to the coach tell funny stories about the season. Then a video is shown on the jumbo-tron of the best plays seniors made. The coach tells a story about each senior who comes to the podium, gets a laugh or two. The kid then sits down and is either drafted by a major league team or goes to TJ Maxx with his mother to buy business suits to start his job in an entry level position that he thinks he is too good for....'cause his vision has always been to play on the Yankees or Phillies. After a few years, he buys his dream car and marries his college sweetheart. They have their 2.35 kids and he finds himself coaching Little League to his son who cannot see the ball, is nonathletic, and alarmingly, is not a switch-hitter!
So, why deny the kids one last opportunity to reminisce about the glory days before they do it with the neighbors in their cul de sac over a beer while watching the kids ride their bikes or climb trees. As they wistfully speak of their college years, their bellies hang over their belts because they stopped exercising when the second colicky kid was born. They traded in the dumb bells for an extra 10 minutes of sleep.
As they let their bodies go, the wives become more militant and demand new sofas, painted basements, and clean gutters...By the way, take out the trash, mow the lawn, and stop hanging around with the husband down the street, 'cause he is having an affair with his secretary. No, the wife does not know it yet, but it is a matter of time. Sheesh! Got the picture?
Now do you see why they need a banquet? Enough said...have a great day!