Broken Window

I’ve shattered a window or two throughout my years of playing lacrosse. Each time, I’m almost positive my mom’s forgiving nature is going to give out (I’ve tested it a lot over the years) and she is going to explode on me. After a tongue-lashing I agree to pay for a new window. Apparently I never learned my lesson because I kept breaking them, mostly while practicing lacrosse in the backyard. I would play catch with myself off the back wall of our house. This is honestly some of the best practice you can get as a lacrosse player. I picked out a brick and hit it over and over again from varying distances. It also fine-tuned my catching skills.

The only problem with this otherwise perfect practice method was the row of windows on the lower half of the wall. It didn’t affect me too much, as I picked a brick above the windows so that the ball would return to me high enough to catch easily. Sometimes I got lackadaisical and fired a pass too low. CRASH, the window would shatter and the ball would shoot into our backroom. My mother must have had an ear for this sound because, no matter where she was in the house, she came running outside to chastise me.

One time in particular stands out. I was shooting on a goal I had in the backyard. The goal was a good distance from the back patio, which extended well beyond the back of our house. I was finally paying head to my mother’s warnings. I was aiming for the corners and having a good deal of success. Occasionally, I’d miss high or wide, or hit the pipe. This time, I released a fireball. I mean that ball was moving. It rocketed off the top crossbar with a high-pitched “ping” sound. It must have come off with some funky spin because it bounced off of a chair on our back porch and, sure enough, through a window on the back of our house. Like usual my mother ran outside to yell at me again. “I promise I wasn’t throwing at the back wall,” I pleaded. It was no use.

The topic of broken windows came up several months ago in conversation. My mom and I were cracking up because we had plenty of experience with shattered windows. I brought up this scenario and told her that I really wasn’t throwing at the back wall. After all, why would I lie about it now? She shook her head but I’m still not sure if she believed me.