Oh, I kid. We did not worship Pele. We just screamed like a bunch of lunatics at a lot of big kid’s running back and forth on a field chasing a little black and white ball from 7:30 AM to 9AM, because that is much more sane than worshiping the god Pele.
As you may have guessed The Teenager had a tournament. They did not win, but I am told this is okay because the purpose was not so much to win but for the coach to see them play together so he knows what to work on in practice and what position to put the new guys.
Interesting. I’m pretty sure the kids thought the point was to win and they were pretty bummed that they didn’t.
I have learned a few things yesterday during my first outing as a Soccer Mom.
By the time your kids get to teenagerdom and your still a soccer mom, you’re serious about soccer.
You can only successfully cheer for your teenager if you have some level of understanding of the rules of soccer.
It is not a good idea to yell your teenager’s childhood nickname while cheering.
Keep a close eye on your very curious 9 year old, or she might possibly pepper the line judge with questions about the intricacies of his job and disrupt the game.
The ruby red soccer cleats that you may or may not have made fun of, will make it quite a bit easier to locate your teenager. (Can you locate my teenager? Look for the ruby red
Always, always go to the bathroom before you get to Soccer Field Church so you don’t have to visit the Port-a-potty’s. EEEWWWW!
If I tried to play soccer in my current less-than-physically-fit state, I’d probably die, right there on the field. Man those kids are in shape!
In Texas in July it can get up to 90 degrees before 9 am.
Shade is golden.
I totally need this book.
Neither of these boys are my son, but isn’t that a cool photo Ann took? (He is in the background though, look for the splash of red near the feet.)