Soccer Tournament

Coach T with his U8 soccer team.

H and T smile big.
We opted to save money and skipped the professional pictures this year, but H is really goofy for me and won't cooperate. She loves to stick out her tongue!

K is much more cooperative for pictures. She had a game this weekend too. I meant to post these pictures at the end of the entry, but technology confused me again so here's the story of what I learned this soccer weekend.

At the top of my lungs, I screamed,"GOHGOHSTAYWITHITGOOOOO!"
Oblivious to all around me, many of whom were also yelling for H to score, I was engaged in cheering mind, body, and spirit (she didn't score). I've read for years about the crazy parents of kids in sports. I couldn't relate to them. I didn't grow up playing sports. I attended basketball and football games in high school, more as social events than as a sports fan. And my dad certainly wasn't a die hard sports fan; he let out the occasional whoop on the rare year when his alma mater Iowa State was actually doing well (sorry dad). I was quite sure those crazy competitive parents needed to straighten their priorities.

I had no idea this visceral competitive nature existed in me. I always feel nervous and uncertain in competition, even in friendly card games. Who knew that watching my girls play soccer would put me just a few categories away from those crazy parents who get kicked out their children's sporting events?

This weekend, I sat on the sidelines as H's team played a tournament. Her team is good, and H is quite far from the best player on it. But sometimes she gets that ball and dribbles down the field. I screamed and cheered for every player on that team, questioned the referee and occasionally wanted to tell the coach (my dear husband) to rearrange positions. Mind you, I know nothing about soccer except what I have learned from watching my daughter play, but in the heat of the game, I have opinions along with the experts. After five games and a disappointing loss in the championship round (0-0 until the last minute of the game), I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I couldn't believe I had done nothing all weekend but hang out at the soccer field and cheer. And I was so disappointed we lost. T was coaching, H was playing and for once in my life, I wasn't rooting for the underdogs, I wanted my own to win. I finally understood why T says the silver medal is a usually a disappointment.

So I get it now. I get the instincts, though not the actions, of those crazy parents a little bit. All the parents around me screamed loudly and cheered fiercely, but no one was rude or out of line. It was good, fun competition. I just didn't know I would like it so much. Oh, and you know the feeling of pride and joy you get when you watch your kids do something they are really good at, I get that feeling watching T coach. Good job honey.