Gutting it out...

We let The Playmaker do a partial practice last night with his Metro team.  He did the shooting drills, some light running (no sprints) and dribbling.  When it came time for the scrimmage, we huddled with the coach and decided to let him participate.  He played with a slight limp, but we figured he was good to go for the weekend games.

Until this morning when we discovered his foot (just below the ankle) was now bruised.

Sheeeet.  Double sheeeet.

One text later, Mr. D was at the door.  He had a clear bottle full of some type of liquid and an unmarked white jar.  We shook hands before The Man got right to the point.  "Where is he?!?"  We lead him to the couch where The Playmaker was watching SportsCenter.  He handed him the bottle and told him to drink it.  The Boy looked at us.  We looked at Mr. D.  "Don't worry.  It tastes good.  Kind of like Gatorade."  When we asked him what it was, he smiled and said, "Don't worry.  It tastes good.  Kind of like Gatorade."  With that we popped off the cap and let The Playmaker drink it. 

Sure enough, he said, "I like it.  It tastes good.  Kind of like Gatorade."

With that, Mr. D unscrewed the lid of the unmarked jar.  He took a fist-full of what looked like dirty Vaseline and rubbed it all over The Playmaker's left ankle, foot and lower shin.  It wasn't even on five seconds when The Playmaker announced his foot was "burning."  Mr. D smiled and told him to keep drinking his drink.  The Playmaker never mentioned the burning sensation again.  The Man kept rubbing and massaging his ankle and foot.  Five minutes later he asked what time the game was.  The Playmaker said 11 AM.  Mr. D fist bumped him and said, "I'll be there."

Two hours later, wearing an ankle brace, The Playmaker took the court.  When it was all over, he had scored 13 of our 27 points and led us to victory.  He also had 4 assists and 6 rebounds. 

Today was picture day, which meant after the game we waited around 20 minutes to have individual and team photos taken.  Of course, the ankle had completely stiffened and he was back to limping.  Not to worry, Mr. D said he would be back tomorrow morning to get him ready for his Metro game.  We pulled him aside and spoke quietly.  We asked him what was in the mysterious drink he had brought to the house.

He smiled and whispered into our ear, "Gatorade."