I’ve become that mother

My middle daughter has just started playing basketball, I’ve watched two games. She has never played a team sport before, and I have already turned into Sport Rage Single Mother. During the first game, I sat on my own and started muttering, “Bloody ref, what would she know? She is ripping off our team,” as I watched the other team get away with pushing and shoving, and my daughter’s team racking up the fouls. As I became more vocal my girl sat obediently on the bench, sneaking looks at me, wondering when I would stop embarrassing her. For the second game I decided to sit with the rational parents, hoping they’d be a good influence on me. Then my daughter was elbowed and fell over. Sport Rage Single Mother from Hell emerged. “Come on, that’s not on!” I yelled and my voice echoed around the gym. I slapped the bench and sat down as the calm parents from the other team pursed their lips and stared at me. My daughter told me she was fine, then the opposing team of giant almost-women proceeded to annihilate my girl and her mates. I slumped in my seat and said to any of the mothers who would listen, “Our girls need a bit more testosterone, they can have mine.” Game three is on today, anyone know where I put my chill pills?

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