Turncoats

Yet another confession...which comes in two parts. First, the easy one: Mark and I graduated from the same high school--not much of scandalous confession there, right? Then comes the second part of the confession where I tell you we never even knew each other in high school because we didn't attend it at the same time. While Mark was courting the ladies at his senior prom I was still in the sixth grade sporting pigtails and twirling on the monkey bars. How's that for some scuttlebutt?

But, despite the humongous chasm in the particulars of our graduation dates, we are both Grizzly alumni. And proud of it too. Or at least I thought we were until Mark recently had what I hope was just a momentary lapse in loyalty.

This freakish display of temporary treason happened last Friday night.  We took the family down to the high school's football field to watch our Grizzly's play a highly anticipated football game that only happens every three years--and only played every SIX years here on our home field. It's the local but legendary Pacific Rim Bowl. Since 1988, our high school has been shuttling back and forth every three years to play against an all-star team from, of all places, Japan. 

And this year it was the Grizzly's turn to host the games. Mark gets especially excited about the Pacific Rim Bowl because it means
one thing: plenty of victims in town to practice his scarcely used Japanese on. 

So when we showed up on Friday night, paid our entry fees, and headed to the crowded stadium to sit with all our fellow Grizzlies, Mark shocked us all by walking right past the stadium steps and veered sharply to the right to the bleachers on the other side of the field. ENEMY TERRITORY.

Huh?

About that time he muttered something about how there was no one over there to root for team Japan and that our family needed to take up the cause.  Translation: He wanted to practice his Japanese.

With that our whole family followed him to the front of the visitors bleachers where Mark sat front and center right next to a very sparse crowd of Japanese supporters; about five in total. And among them was a  nice Japanese lady and her son.

A very dubious Mark unabashedly trading in 

the nicely shaded bleachers full of Ashland Alumni

for a sparsely populated bleacher in enemy territory. 

 Notice Mark sitting opposite what looks to be the 

entire town of Ashland.

It took him all of three seconds before he introduced

himself to this lady sitting next to him.

Soon she and Mark had our family cheering in Japanese...

loud enough for the other side to hear us.

"Nippon!"  [clap, clap, clap]
"Nippon!"  [clap, clap, clap]
"Nippon!"  [clap, clap, clap]

With no competition for good seats on the enemy side,

we were close enough to see their game plays.

 

My inner Grizzly was wishin' I had a set of two-way radios so I could alert my REAL team in on their secret plays. Though not much good that would have done since I can't read Japanese and Mark was not about to squeal.

The game got so crowded that eventually our meager little bleachers started filling up with REAL Grizzly fans. Which gave our fellow townspeople a close enough range to identify the whole of the Skillman clan as traitors.

Here's Mark and his new friends.
They talked all night but I have no idea what about.

Connor was so excited he stood at the fence
the whole night long.
(or maybe he was embarrassed that 
he was being forced to sit in cheap-side?)

Once we got there and Mark beguiled me into cheering for Japan,
I stayed committed to the cause. I shouted cheers that I had no idea what I was cheering, yelled stuff I had no idea the meaning of, and made gestures I've never made before. (I had no idea what Mark had me yelling, and a few times, from the looks the sidelined players gave me on a few occasions, I don't think I even want to know. Knowing Mark, I probably got tricked into saying some really random stuff.) Yes indeed, for a few short hours, I sadly became a willing accomplice, a traitor to my own kind, and it was kinda fun.

The only time I slipped up and broke ranks was when my nephew Tanner made two AWESOME plays. First when he tackled the receiver who had just caught the ball and then later when he rushed the quarterback and plowed him down--after they picked all the heavy brutes off the two of them it was then that we discovered skinny Tanner was at the bottom of the pile with the football clutched in his arms! A stupendous turnover! I just had to cheer! Even a diehard defector has her limits.

But sadly, all our cheering was for naught. The Grizzly's won 26-0. A crippling defeat for a couple of first time turncoats like us.

Although...the inner Grizz inside of me...she was Elated!
And now, I've officially retired from messy business of mutiny...
at least for six more years anyway.