Bang bang!
I went to San Antonio today to celebrate Mother's Day a week late. My family couldn't get together last weekend, so we went out for a nice dinner at Carraba's this afternoon. We were eating our salads when the waiter walked up to refill our drinks. Without a hitch he said, "Hey, David's here."
It didn't really register with me, but then my mom made a muffled squeak. "Oh, David Robinson," she whispered, gesturing over my shoulder with a nod. I turned around to see the hostess seating The Admiral, his squat Hispanic wife, and his two young boys about three tables away from us. We all murmured our surprise, not sure if we should be excited or not.
The waiter chuckled and said, "Yeah, it's nothing new."
"It is for us," my mom said with a slightly embarrassed laugh.
Over the course of our meal, I'd peek over at his table, scratching the curious itch of celebrity gazing. Seeing someone out living a normal life makes you feel a little silly for holding them in some special regard. Just because I recognized this man's face I'd felt like I knew him in some little way, or at least admired him. But seeing him there, talking to his kids, it was a reminder that basketball is probably not the most important thing to him nor that for which he should be most admired. When the restuarant got quiet, we could eavesdrop on him talking in that genial, deep voice that matches his giant smile. The youngest of his boys, probably about 5, asked while pointing at his plate, "What is this?" With a laugh, and saying it slowly, Mr. Robinson replied, "That's laasaaagna."
Later, we heard him quizzing his kids on their multiplication tables. I looked over again, and saw him leaning down close to the table--he looked much younger in person than he does on the basketball court--wearing that big grin. His wife looked pleased, but tired, as I imagine anyone would be given her husband's schedule. "Alright," he said, addressing his older son, "What's 10 times 5?"
"Fifty."
"Bang bang! Good," Mr. Robinson looked at his other son, "your turn, Justin. What's 10 times 7?"
"Mmm, seventy."
He nodded his head and smiled wider. "Bang bang!"
I went to San Antonio today to celebrate Mother's Day a week late. My family couldn't get together last weekend, so we went out for a nice dinner at Carraba's this afternoon. We were eating our salads when the waiter walked up to refill our drinks. Without a hitch he said, "Hey, David's here."
It didn't really register with me, but then my mom made a muffled squeak. "Oh, David Robinson," she whispered, gesturing over my shoulder with a nod. I turned around to see the hostess seating The Admiral, his squat Hispanic wife, and his two young boys about three tables away from us. We all murmured our surprise, not sure if we should be excited or not.
The waiter chuckled and said, "Yeah, it's nothing new."
"It is for us," my mom said with a slightly embarrassed laugh.
Over the course of our meal, I'd peek over at his table, scratching the curious itch of celebrity gazing. Seeing someone out living a normal life makes you feel a little silly for holding them in some special regard. Just because I recognized this man's face I'd felt like I knew him in some little way, or at least admired him. But seeing him there, talking to his kids, it was a reminder that basketball is probably not the most important thing to him nor that for which he should be most admired. When the restuarant got quiet, we could eavesdrop on him talking in that genial, deep voice that matches his giant smile. The youngest of his boys, probably about 5, asked while pointing at his plate, "What is this?" With a laugh, and saying it slowly, Mr. Robinson replied, "That's laasaaagna."
Later, we heard him quizzing his kids on their multiplication tables. I looked over again, and saw him leaning down close to the table--he looked much younger in person than he does on the basketball court--wearing that big grin. His wife looked pleased, but tired, as I imagine anyone would be given her husband's schedule. "Alright," he said, addressing his older son, "What's 10 times 5?"
"Fifty."
"Bang bang! Good," Mr. Robinson looked at his other son, "your turn, Justin. What's 10 times 7?"
"Mmm, seventy."
He nodded his head and smiled wider. "Bang bang!"
posted by Matt at 11:29 PM
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