If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter!

I know you're thinking 'Hold the phone. Michelle, you're not an athlete?' The rumours are true. Pick your jaws up off the floor and bear with me...
While my athletic skills are less-than-par, I've married into a family with no shortage of coordination and athleticism...or height. And the Richards' most recent addition is no exception. My new brother-in-law, Mat Taylor, is on the BYU Volleyball Team and he & Manda came to Las Vegas in November (yep, it's taken me a while) for a tournament and kicked some butt.
My claim to fame: I fed a BYU athlete and he ate the whole thing! Of course, his parents were there and took him out for lunch afterward to supplement my cooking, but he was gracious enough to finish it. Manda was also gracious enough to finish hers, and I appreciate them both bearing with my feeble attempts at cooking for vegans. They were very patient and it was wonderful to have them stay with us.
The gym was full of tall people - the stands were filled with players' parents who, let's face it, to produce sons 6'6" or taller, have to be fairly large themselves. I felt like an oompa-loompa (minus the "tan"). Although my athletic career only consisted of one season on a city baseball team when I was 8, and one season on my elementary school's volleyball team (don't think I didn't throw that around at the tournament) my marriage has introduced me to many a sporting event, and I'm almost to the point where I understand American football! Here we are with a BYU Football helmet autographed by Bronco himself! How did I get my unathletic hands on such a sacred treasure, you ask?
Back in my glory days, I helped the BYU Football Team recruit. The cheerleaders and I (apparently the requirements for this gig were being petite and blonde) would take the recruits (like Stephen Covey - the grandson) on a tour of campus and help seat them at a breakfast buffet the following morning, where they (and I) would meet Bronco Mendenhall, President Samuelson and Paul Tidwell - the only one who would pose for a picture with us. BYU puts on quite a spread for this young men at the Skyroom. The only downside was that we had to sit with the cheerleaders, so next to their dessert plate of fruit, my 4-5 trips to the buffet to secure french toast, bacon, muffins, croissants, and donuts seemed gluttonous - if I had been with my family or Brandon, the 4-5 trips would have been deemd "weak-sauce" and I would have to pay for myself.
Sadly, I never had the chance to be a cheerleader in high school. I suppose when your high school goes 2 years without sports, a cheerleading program doesn't really make sense. But, that's not to say I haven't made an effort over the years. My roommates and I attended the first-ever Jock Rock at the Brick House in Provo (now I guess it's called the Hollywood House - I'm getting old) as cheerleaders and stayed in character the whole night.
It's nice to have some inspiration - it really helps me maintain my extreme level of perkiness and sustains me jumping around for hours at a time. Here we are: the has-been and the never-was, reliving Brandon's glory days at a track meet in Moscow last year. In his day, Mr. Richards was quite an impressive pole vaulter. If you ever play 2 Truths & a Lie with this man, look out for the "I was a pole vaulter in high school" line. When you're 6'4" and in excess of 230 lbs, surely you couldn't have pole vaulted in high school? Don't be fooled. He was The Man.
Speaking of The Man, what a hunk! And with hair closely resembling a skunk, he's impossible to miss in old high school basketball footage. It's really a pity we didn't know each other in high school, he in the prime of his athletic career and me at the peak of my imaginary adventures in cheerleading.