The gym smelled like old socks, the whistle was piercing, and the popcorn was stale, but this didn’t lessen my excitement. My 6-year-old daughter, Cecily, was playing in her first basketball tournament. She was on the yellow team, and her best friend, Lucy, was on the opposing blue team.
As the two teams lined up, the girls waved at each other enthusiastically. Mid-game, they held hands and skipped together down the court. In the bleachers, their competitive fathers didn’t know what to make of this.