WORLD CUP ACTION!!!
I have refrained from commenting on all the blathernational windiness about the World Cup, in general because it used to be that soccer players who played American football wound up being kickers or punters. The best things about kickers is the look on their face when they realize that you are going to arrive before the ball leaves their foot, and their simultaneous realization that you could care less about the ball and that really you are intent on contacting them with extreme prejudice. I only managed to see that look a couple of times way back when, but it was always priceless. And it tended to color my judgement of anyone who makes a specialty of kicking.

In any event, I have learned to like the game of soccer, mainly because my son and middle daughter took it up this spring and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. And last evening, upon the hallowed fields of the Trussville Soccer Club, the world's newest little player stepped up, the one and only Thunderchild. The club is having sessions on Monday nights for the little kids to get them acquainted with each other and with the concepts, and Catherine has been begging to play since she saw brother and sister doing it.

So last night she strapped on her little shin guards and cleats and ran herself ragged. The first part of the session is about thirty minutes of skills, then the kids break into smaller groups for a pickup game. Since she had not played before, Cat was placed with a group of four year olds, whom she dwarfed with her bulk, and blasted into meekness through the use of her incredibly loud pie hole. If these kids really had played before, they didn't show it, so she probably would have done just as well in an older group. As it was though, she probably needed the experience and she did pick up on the basic concept pretty rapidly. Except for that part about the field dimensions being finite in size, as denoted by those WIDE WHITE LINES. Once they started going after a ball, they would keep on going, one time managing to make it over three separate fields before finally giving up. Thankfully, she didn't rip her shirt off after the game was over.

She had the best time, and wore herself slap out, which is good because last night there were none of the ninety million bedtime forays from her room to ours to inquire on world events, puppies, bugs, baby dolls, tee-tee, or anything else. She hit that pillow and was out like she had been poleaxed.

So soccer is a very, very good thing.
posted by Terry at 2:16:00 PM