I used to go to my kids’ soccer games and I was the only parent who wasn’t screaming because I’d have to do a show that night. It was hard. Moms and dads get more emotional at those soccer games than at a professional game.
-Neil Diamond
There is no deep or philosophical meaning that we can all take from that quote, but for God’s sake, it is Neil Diamond! Who cares what the message is when the Jazz Singer is the one making the statement? Read the quote again, only this time read it as if you were Neil – that deep, raspy tone. I want to see Neil Diamond at a soccer game; I would walk over to him, place my hand on his shoulder, and say, “Scream, Neil, scream.” An American icon, that is all.
In an earlier post, I mentioned how my daughter would soon be playing soccer and how I was looking forward to cheering her on as she learned the game. This idea has come to fruition. We have had two games so far and it is amazing the intensity that is experienced when a group of 5-6 year old girls attempt to kick a soccer ball in a goal that is not being defended.
It is literally just like I remember it as a kid. We have our morning coffee and the kids have their breakfast. We all load up in the minivan with soccer balls in the back. We head to the soccer field and find a parking place. We then haul 3 chairs, the aforementioned coffee, the breakfast the kids did not finish, the cooler filled with water and juice boxes, and other necessities as we embark on this momentous sporting event that lasts for approximately 45 minutes.
We set up the chairs and prepare for the clash that will take place on the pitch (that means field). The match has begun and I have just sat down in my chair with my coffee. The fury is maddening. The teams chase after the ball much like a herd of cats would chase after the light from a laser pointer. There are even times when someone makes contact with the ball and it travels near the opposing goal. About five minutes into the game is when I look around and I notice that Alex has wandered off. The chase is on. I get out of my chair, put my coffee down, and begin running around like a madman making sure he does not get onto other fields and interrupt the games. As I am running around, I begin to realize that I am the cat and he is the light from the laser pointer. This is not my finest moment. I get back to my chair and it is inhabited by two soccer players that are on the bench, and my coffee is cold.
We get back to the game. While watching Hannah, I notice that her previous dance lessons seem to be taking over. While there is a huddled mass hovering around the ball, Hannah does not feel it is necessary to get any closer than 5 feet from the ball. There are those moments when the ball finds its way to her foot, and this is when I jump out of my seat. She turns, she starts running straight for the goal, the mob of ponytails is behind her and…so is the ball. In all the excitement, she ran right over the ball. And, once again, we are at least 5 feet from the ball. I am not being negative. In fact, I think she gets it from me – when I played as a child, I was always fullback. This can be described as the position that literally just sits back and waits for the ball to come to them. She is literally following in my footsteps…or dance steps, whichever.
In her second game, one of these grand encounters with the ball took place. Fortunately, this happened right in front of the opposing goal. Hannah swung her foot, made contact, and made her first goal. Pardon my language, but it was at this point that I went ape shit. I lost my mind because my daughter made a goal. Pride and joy…that is all I felt at that moment. I was elated.
Then, I turned around and saw Alex standing in the creek near the field with some other boys. He was soaked from crotch to toes. He thought it would be entertaining if he jumped up and down in the stagnant water in the creek bed. Oddly enough, I was proud of him too.
The game was over, snacks and juice boxes were passed out, and we made our trek back to the minivan. I am officially a soccer dad. I am…I said. (That’s a Neil Diamond song, by the way)
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