For all things Tooks, and some things, er, relating to other people. As well as to other things. You get the picture.

24 January 2009

Ok, so big news on the facial hair front. ("Big" is, of course, a relative term, depending on your opinion of the overall bigness of facial hair news in general. But I digress.)

My school's PTO planned an Active Families Night to promote health and fitness, etc. Great idea. Gym games, the rock wall, refreshments, etc.

And since I have a partner in crime this year (a second grade teacher of a similarly absurd disposition as me), I decided to do my part to promote this thing. We came up with a plan to generate student (and staff) interest in the event: a one-on-one basketball game between us two. That's right--two pale white dudes who can't shoot, can't jump, and are horribly out of shape.

Of course, inspired by the long tradition of Abe/Tucker ridiculosity, overpompulousness, and hyperlicision, we decided to bill the matchup the "Battle of the Ballers." Settling on a 1970s NBA theme, with high socks, wrist bands, and headbands (and big hair on my part), we organized a promotional photo shoot in the school gym. But before we hit on the masterstroke: matching 1970s NBA mustachios.

We made up two different versions of posters and put them all over the school, and we were delighted at the absurd buzz created. My students even started talking trash on my behalf: "You're going to beat him, mister. I can be on your team." The school seems to be evenly divided as to who's rooting for who (incidentally, "rooting" is a vocab word; most of my students told me they'll be voting for me in the game. I tried to explain that there won't be a vote, until I realized they just don't know the word "rooting" yet). The principal even noticed the buzz, and gaze us a nod during a reminder announcement of Active Families Night over the intercom. And two male fourth grade teachers added their own spin in a double-header addition: "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing." (That's a popular children's novel, for those not in the elementary school literary know.)

For me, of course, the game is secondary to the hype. I spent way too long on the posters, and of course, the joy of an ironic mustache is its own reward. (Another aside: the speech therapist in the room next door to mine gave me a nice compliment on the new 'stache design. I told her it was ironic and promotional. She said, "It looks good anyway." What a sweetie.)

It should be said, however, that I don't want to lose this game. I want to hit a few j's, make a few layups with decent form, and not get beat. The game's only to five, so the chance of my vomiting is pretty slim. I hope.

I've included one of the promotional shots to give an idea of the flavor. I haven't figured out how to post an image of the posters yet, but I think I'll just take a picture of them and upload them. Keep an eye out.

So, as I mount the second stage of my (mercifully) brief scholastic basketball career (three years of B Team ball at the 'Croft), I look to the beautiful blond example of Larry Legend. Guide my hand, Mr. Bird, and my 'stache, to glory.

Pull on your high striped socks with me (but leave your shorty shorts at home--there's kids involved, for pity's sake),