A Scintillating Sports Weekend
After being on my deathbed for two days (I completely slept through Friday), I needed a good sports weekend. Fortunately, Wisconsin fans got wins from the Badgers, Packers, and a couple from the Brewers (but special thanks to the pathetic St. Louis Cardinals, who have now become the Larry Craig of the National League).
There was, however, one sporting event that eclipsed all others in terms of human drama: it was my daughter's first-ever soccer game in her 3-and 4-year old league. In fact, it was better attended than any of the WNBA championship series games to date.
I was prepared for this, as I had been videotaping the opposing team for weeks, Belichick-style. My daughter had never played in any kind of organized sporting event, so I had no idea how she would react. She didn't start, and didn't really seem all that interested in watching the game before going in. Naturally, this being a West Madison kid soccer league, you have a lot of kids named things like "Jericho" and "Sapphire." Most of the kids in the game were unaware that the game was actually going on. Or who their birth parents are.
When finally called upon, my daughter was too shy to go in the game. The ref said I could run next to her if I wanted, so I did - although I know I ran the risk of looking like one of these total a-hole parents that directs their children from within a foot at all times. But finally, she forgot about me, and just ran around kicking the ball. She even scored a goal that was waved off because of some technicality about being too close to the goal or something. Since it's a city league, I think it is only fair that the Mayor's office hear about this injustice.
Sometime in the middle of the game, her two-year old brother practiced his own brand of hooliganism by running out on the field. He was standing still, which usually means one thing - he was filling his diapers. But when I thought about it, that's the same thing Derrick Turnbow does every time he runs out on the field, and he gets paid a lot of money. Maybe there's a future for my boy, after all.
Near the end of the game, one kid just wandered off the field, leaving my daughter's team a player short. She pulled a Scottie Pippen and refused to go back in the game, citing the deliciousness of her watermelon as the prime reason.
All in all, I couldn't be more proud of her. I showed her a YouTube video of Mia Hamm, and she said she wants to be as good as she is. I figure a few more weeks of intense training should do the trick - as long as she gives up the watermelon.
There was, however, one sporting event that eclipsed all others in terms of human drama: it was my daughter's first-ever soccer game in her 3-and 4-year old league. In fact, it was better attended than any of the WNBA championship series games to date.
I was prepared for this, as I had been videotaping the opposing team for weeks, Belichick-style. My daughter had never played in any kind of organized sporting event, so I had no idea how she would react. She didn't start, and didn't really seem all that interested in watching the game before going in. Naturally, this being a West Madison kid soccer league, you have a lot of kids named things like "Jericho" and "Sapphire." Most of the kids in the game were unaware that the game was actually going on. Or who their birth parents are.
When finally called upon, my daughter was too shy to go in the game. The ref said I could run next to her if I wanted, so I did - although I know I ran the risk of looking like one of these total a-hole parents that directs their children from within a foot at all times. But finally, she forgot about me, and just ran around kicking the ball. She even scored a goal that was waved off because of some technicality about being too close to the goal or something. Since it's a city league, I think it is only fair that the Mayor's office hear about this injustice.
Sometime in the middle of the game, her two-year old brother practiced his own brand of hooliganism by running out on the field. He was standing still, which usually means one thing - he was filling his diapers. But when I thought about it, that's the same thing Derrick Turnbow does every time he runs out on the field, and he gets paid a lot of money. Maybe there's a future for my boy, after all.
Near the end of the game, one kid just wandered off the field, leaving my daughter's team a player short. She pulled a Scottie Pippen and refused to go back in the game, citing the deliciousness of her watermelon as the prime reason.
All in all, I couldn't be more proud of her. I showed her a YouTube video of Mia Hamm, and she said she wants to be as good as she is. I figure a few more weeks of intense training should do the trick - as long as she gives up the watermelon.
