14 October 2006, 10:50 AM
If you'd told me ten years ago I'd be
a soccer mom today, complete with minivan,
extra coats and snacks-in-tow-
I suppose far-fetched is an overstatement.
I'd have believed you.
What I didn't count on was the sense of pride
and joy at watching the little ones-
GOAL!!! Way to go Isaiah!
That's my kid- my kid made a goal!
It's a shame his father wasn't here to see
another first. Ah well, there'll always be
the second, perhaps even before next season-
GOAL!!! GO ISAIAH!!!
My GOD, THAT was my kid too! Did you SEE that?
That was my KID- MERCY, but he's good at this!
Why am I surprised? The little ones don't know
they can't- they only know they'll try.
GOAL!!! Good job, Kelly!
Their delight outstrips my own by far, perhaps
because their joy is by doubt unadulterated-
they do not know ambition nor self-conscious
anxiety as big folks more often do than not.
GOAL!!! Way to put it in, Quin!
Neither do they know the rules of the game,
but sakes alive, they surely know to play!
My back was turned- I didn't see the shot,
but the aftermath is unmistakable- someone scored.
High-fives all around, and victory goes to the Storm.
My little one, from allstar transformed
to weepy puddle of hunger and exhaustion,
and I apologize to coach for his off-the-field
attitude toward the game. Coach smiles,
assures me that he earned his keep.
He plays hard, and one can hardly fault
the kid who scored three goals for the team.
Three? Three goals, coach? Are you sure?
That last one I missed- my kid made that shot.
Did you see it? That was my kid.