My mom finally convinced my worldly dad to join the brothers from our congegration to join them in a game of basketball and soccer, thinking this would entice my dad and bond with the brothers and make him realize that she was right all along, these are God's people. (My dad used to play college basketball in his younger years, and is an avid fan of sports. Like, really avid. )
Well he went. And he never ever went back. Mom used to bug him every Sunday morning about it, and he'd reply with "I'm tired" "I'm sore", or the dreaded "But I'm taking the kids to play basketball right this very moment!!" So we had to suffer through my dad's coaching for a while, until my mom finally asked him one day why he didn't want to 'fraternize' with the JWs.
And my dad went serious and said something about how the brothers were the worst players he had ever encountered in his non-professional life. They were also ball hoggers and completely disorganized and held grudges. And that by the end of the games, they had shunned my dad because he kept scoring and scoring.