


Little brother plays lacrosse on Saturday mornings at 8. It's an hour practice -- or more of a clinic -- with a bunch of 5 and 6 year olds. Almost 20 of them. You can imagine: a pack of kindergardeners with sticks, chasing after little balls.
The idea to play lacrosse was all his. He had tossed a ball around several times with our neighbor, who is a big lacrosse player and coach from a tradition of lacrosse players/coaches. And who was impressed with little brother's natural skills. I guess the compliment made an impression. Because he didn't want to play baseball like big brother. It is all lacrosse.
Today they had their first scrimage. After all the silly drills and lacrosse games (that involved pool noodles and pretending to be sharks), they divided them into teams and let them have at it. If you've ever seen small children play soccer, all bunched in a pack following the ball, then you can imagine this scene; just put lacrosse sticks in their hands. I wasn't sure they had any sense of how the game works. But they seemed to be having fun.
In the car on the way to swim class, I asked him if they had taught him any rules for the game.
"Yes," he said. "No whacking people with sticks. And no throwing balls at anybody."
Well, I guess that's a start.