My son’s preschool teacher is a Warrior girl
I thought this was really cute, especially considering how many dancers are also teachers~ sasha
Peter Hartlaub
SFGate.com
Jan 25, 2011
Let me start by warning you that the post is kind of long. To summarize: my son’s former preschool teacher is a Warrior girl and was really nice to him at Friday night’s game. If you’re one of those people who just reads the headline and goes straight to the comments, please be kind.
I took my almost 6-year-old to his first Warriors game on Friday night. We had attended a few practices. But much like his first trip to AT&T Park to watch the Giants, I waited until he asked before taking him to his first real game. That’s him on the right in the sweet Chris Mullin rookie year replica jersey.
My awesome wife, who bought me a four-pack of Warriors tickets for Christmas, called me when we were on the road toward Oracle Arena.
“Remember Theo’s teacher Michelle from preschool? She’s a Warrior girl! She might stop by and see him.”
Honestly, I found the conversation impossible to process. Other than the 50-something supervisor, all of my son’s preschool teachers were teenagers dressed in hoodies and the occasional “My Chemical Romance” T-shirt. I would have definitely remembered someone in knee-high boots and a sports bra.
I questioned the logic of her coming up into the stands as well. We were sitting in the upper reaches of the arena, and the Warrior girls presumably had to work. It would be like a concert cellist from the San Francisco Symphony leaving in the middle of Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto No. 2 to hang out with someone who bought a $20 seat in the second tier balcony.
I was also considering the demographic differences between the lower level seats and the 200 section at Warriors games. I’ve sat in both, and while everyone is sharing the same oxygen and watching the same game, it’s a completely different scene. Put bluntly, the floor seats are mostly the Garibaldi’s/Bay Wolf/Miss Pearl’s Jam House crowd, while the balcony has much more of a Hooters vibe. For the Warriors’ purposes this is fine — both demographics are knowledgable fans who cheer loud — but I couldn’t imagine a Warriors girl thrown into the mix. The 200 section can barely contain itself when a T-shirt is shot into the stands. A lone Warrior girl walking into this scene wouldn’t stand a chance.
My son spent much of the first half standing up and looking for Michelle. I was still very skeptical, told him to temper his expectations, and made sure he cheered extra loud when the Warrior girls did a high-energy “Proud Mary” themed dance.
I was 99.8 percent sure no one would be coming into the stands … until my wife called at the beginning of halftime and told me not to move, because Michelle was headed to our seats.
There are men who aren’t going to believe this next part, but I don’t perv out on young attractive half-naked women. While I’m completely guilty of ogling a hot mom at the park (yes, that was me), I consider most dancers/cheerleaders/hot young bartenders to be someone’s daughter, not a sex object. I think middle aged guys who drop double entendres on 20-year-old waitresses are pretty much the saddest thing in the world, and it’s my nightmare to be mistaken for one of them. So when I found out a Warrior girl was headed to my seat, my overwhelming emotion was worry in anticipation of the awkwardness of the moment. She was probably a minor last time I saw her, and I didn’t want to accidentally check her out. “Maintain eye contact and don’t be a pervert” became my mantra for the next 10 minutes.
My son, the little badass, was still looking for Michelle but otherwise acting completely cool. It occurred to me that as a first timer, he probably thought this is what happens at every Warriors game. Stay in your seats during halftime! The dancers will come to you and give you big hugs!
Michelle showed up — with a friend — and I immediately recognized her as one of his more engaged student teachers, albeit dressed in white knee-high boots and construction sign yellow short shorts. I didn’t see her much because I did the preschool drop-off, and I’m pretty sure Michelle was there in the afternoon. But she was one of the student teachers who organized his graduation and my wife said she was amazing with the children. I brought him down the stairs and Michelle gave him a huge hug, telling him she missed him and asking about kindergarten. As cute as he was with her, she absolutely lit up when she saw my son. And due in part to a strategically worn Adidas tracksuit jacket, my expected moment of awkwardness (“eyecontacteyeconacteyecontact”) was brief.
The crowd was stirring almost immediately after the pair arrived, with guys from the stands gravitating toward them like horny zombies. Michelle and her friend posed for photos with my son, and politely deflected most of the grown men who were trying to move in on his action.
“Take a picture with me and my friend,” one of the sadder cases kept pleading. “It’s his biiiirthday!”
By the time we walked back up into the upper reaches of Oracle Arena, more than half the section was staring at my son. He was happy, but in a just-had-a-fun-time-at-recess kind of way.
“You don’t even know what a rock star you are, do you?” I asked him.
I’ll show him the pictures when he’s older.
(More photos below. Thanks Michelle and Samantha! And thanks to the Warriors — my son’s first game was an overtime victory against the Kings.)
