(Sorry folks!. I thought I I’d posted thislast month. But I guess it still applies, so I’ll go ahead and post it. Thanks for your understanding.)
I’m sitting in a folding chair swatting gnats off my tablet while The Regulator participates in soccer practice. Today I’m comfortable, it being about 78 degrees. A couple weeks ago it was terribly hot, and in a couple weeks it’ll be terribly cold. But we’ll be here.
The Regulator is on the team, but barely. He’ll get playing time, and he’s practicing hard. But he’s two years behind his teammates. I think he enjoys it enough to step up and do well.
I never had that problem. There was always a space for me on the roster, since a girl’s team was a little hard to come by (I played before Mia Hamm made it look awesome). But I’ll be the first to tell anyone that I didn’t really have any love for the game. My parents were trying to keep me active, which I appreciate today. And I wasn’t half bad… I wasn’t half good either. I was able to nail a throw-in with above average accuracy. Running all over the field, however… I did NOT love that at all. I think in 6 years I made one goal, and that was pretty much a fluke.
At least my soccer experience means I know my stuff when the boys play (did I mention all the boys are playing this year? The other two just haven’t been assigned to their teams yet). Not that it’s very hard to know your stuff in soccer. Get the ball into the net without using your hands. But at least it’s something I can have in common with my boys– the hubs isn’t exactly the athletic type. I might even get the chance to help them do proper throw-ins.
Here’s to bringing sports to the family.