Basketball is a violent sport. You wouldn't think so, you don't bowl people over like in football or try to drown opponents like in water polo, but my memory is littered with all the injuries my brother and dad acquired for the love of the game. What I never understood was why, after my dad needed his wedding ring sawed off due to a smashed finger or my brother needed stitches after a bad collision, they were so excited to play again. Stitches (ace-wrap, splint, insert your favorite piece of medical equipment here) came out, basketball shoes went on.
It must be a guy thing.
Anyway, Robb is playing on our ward's intramural basketball team. I am usually designated as scorekeeper because a) both teams must supply a person to tally points and fouls, b) the team has no other use for me, and c) the other wives are better at hiding.
For most of the game our team was behind. Several of our key players, including Robb were off on their shots and we weren't getting our fair share of foul calls. Robb went up for a layup, stumbled over one of the other players, and came down wrong on his ankle. He limped over to the sidelines and sat down supporting his left ankle. Five minutes later (after a very brief icing) he started carefully putting weight on it and five minutes after that he was back in the game (because "it doesn't hurt anymore").
They won. Robb's injury improved his shot, oddly enough :) He mentioned the pain coming back after leaving the gym and by the time we got home he discovered his left ankle was three times bigger than his right.
Picture taken after some serious icing and wrapping
What it looks like now. As of this moment, Robb promised to stay away from the court...but we'll see how long that lasts :)
