#384

Megan had about 8 inches of her hair cut off. I didn't notice but several of her basketball teammates did. "You got your hair cut! It looks great!" they told her cheerfully. "I didn't notice," I said. "Of course you didn't," they said. I love Megan, her hair, and her basketball team. Her teammates are great supporters of each other, friends, competitors, little comedians sometimes, winners, sweet, smart, very tough; I'm grateful Megan is a part of it all. Indeed, the girls play hard and occasionally collide, bump, knock each other down. But it's never dirty (like Duke's Grayson Allen, for example, who trips everyone in frustration). So on Sunday when an opponent ended up on the floor and the other coach stormed out and glared at our team, I took heightened interest; it seemed like he wanted to snap at our girls. I felt myself begging him to do so. Which is wrong of me, of course. I can be conflict-averse, passive-aggressive, and just plain wimpy, but there at times when this is not the case, when I feel free and right and completely oblivious to everyone except the person I think is behaving badly. Or about to. The other coach looked down and mumbled something we couldn't hear. Good. I would've thrown some energy at him otherwise, only verbally obviously, but enough to embarrass myself and accomplish little else. But I wouldn't have cared; it's very liberating to be single-minded like that. "You talk to your team. You do NOT talk to our team. Ever. Out of anger, anyway. No one will make our girls feel bad for playing hard and competing fairly. They are respectful and good-hearted; I know this about every one of them. Coach Mike and I witness this over and over again, as do all the other families; we've spent many hours together. It's really a special group. There are ornery kids in the world, some with only a speck (but a measurable speck nonetheless) and I have known and coached a few of this sort, and found it interesting, challenging, even enjoyable (being around, and trying to steer and focus, all types of competitors). And I can tell you exactly none of Megan's teammates have a mean streak (or speck). Megan, on the other hand.... ah, not true, she is one of the least aggressive; she's a million miles from ornery on the court; maybe she should be a smidge closer, in fact?

The instinct to protect and defend someone else is a fascinating one to me. Evolution may explain why we do so for our offspring, but what about for friends? When no harm to ourselves is impending, but we put ourselves in jeopardy for a friend... what is the force behind this, the scientific force or explanation? Is it 'the preservation of social structures inside which members can more optimally survive and thrive?' That sounds like bullshit because it is; I just made it up. But we are social beings. Even so, it doesn't sound very Darwinian to risk big for a friend. It's something finer. For some people it's a job to risk and serve (armed forces, police, fire, education professionals, those in charities, non-profits, some churches) and I'm grateful. It's impressive when dedication and sacrifice are on full display in someone who isn't a mama grizzly bear with two cubs behind her.

Yes, grizzlies are the quintessential protective parents. Yes, it is only the moms. (Bear dads are deadbeats and dangerous but let's not examine that as metaphor or any kind of common, cross-species trait, thank you very much.) Grizzly mamas are enormous, fierce, and aggressive when it comes to keeping babies safe. This is common knowledge. This is awesome. Every parent not only understands, but admires, the grizzly mom who will unhesitatingly deploy a massive paw, bristling with claws like a morning star, to scalp, de-limb, slice to ribbons, or otherwise deter any creature that threatens her cubs. Her message is clear: Don't do it. Don't even think about it. Thankfully, we aren't wolves or mountain lions that – because they're either very brave or very starving – will sometimes attempt to take a cub, and sometimes succeed, despite unfavorable odds and horrible, bloody risk. As for humans, according to research, seventy percent of human deaths caused by grizzly bears are related to mothers protecting cubs. Oh, and the mothers also teach the cubs everything, feed and care for them, hang out and play with them, snuggle them.... Hey dad bears, WTF?!