Ah, the annual Fourth of July Bocce Tournament! Held at historic Martin Fields in Irvington (a part of Indianapolis), host Jennifer Martin has been grooming the pitch since the snow melted last spring. That pesky Rose of Sharon bush right in the middle of the field has been removed, too, at the request of the serious bocce players in the group. (Which would be all of us.)
Family and friends gathered for a potluck lunch before heading out onto the hot and humid playing field. Grigsby tried to persuade participants that it was far better to remain indoors and socialize with him.
Of course, we recognized that as a ploy from Jenny to cut down the competition and increase her own chances of winning. (Note to self: ask judges if playing in the tournament that you are hosting is a conflict of interest and suggest that Jenny should be barred from future competitions.)
But Jenny's cheating tactics did not work, and friends and family gathered on the field to await their turns to compete. (We even played the national anthem which earned us some crazy looks from dog walkers on the sidewalk that borders Martin's Fields.)
As usual (and even without my other kids and their spouses there to add to it), the competition was FIERCE.
It pitted sister against sister
against sister.
Mother against daughter,
brother-in-law against sister-in-law,
and niece against aunt.
Our family bocce tournament even features "instant replay,"
"video feed" of incredible shots (two reds by the pallino; black's going down!),
fair and honest judges who have a tape measure and know how to use it,
and the occasional whiner "passionate" player who contests the impartial judge's call and asks that a new tape measure, still sealed in its plastic wrapper, be used.
All in the hopes of winning the fantabulous Bocce Ball trophy
That trophy is pretty impressive and it is a true token of honor and skill to win it. (Although you do have to pass it on to the next year's winner.)
Having said that, even placing in the top four of the competition is very exciting.
and still hugging your second place niece and saying, "I love you, loser sweetie."
As soon as this rain stops, I am going to go outside and begin practicing for next year. After all, I made the podium this year - next year's my year!
