Soccer Mom is Added to the Sports Widow's List of Credentials
September 19, 2008 10:20 PM | 0 Comments
Today marked my 10-year-old son Austin's second game as a soccer player. When I woke up, there was a steady, unwelcoming drizzle, and I planned to send my sports fan husband Bryan to Austin's game, knowing that my girls, Caroline (8) and Kit (14), are fair weather fans and would complain the entire time. But, Austin, by special request, wanted me to watch his game this time.
First question: Why are these soccer games always located in Timbuktu and require a journey involving planes, trains, automobiles, pack mules and camels? And, why do I always think, optimistically believe, I can navigate my way to these new locations? Before we left, I called one of the player's Moms, Ashley, to get some directions. They sounded simple enough and everything seemed to be going well until I hit Normandy Park, which is replete with cul de sacs, dead ends and general road stumpers. I drove into a recycling facility twice, called Bryan thrice, made about four illegal U-turns (is that frice?), cursed, berated myself and finally found the field five minutes after the game started. I am definitely a candidate for a GPS.
Added to this, Austin, who has only played soccer for a few weeks now, was assigned the position of goalie in the second half. In my opinion, the pressure on the goalie is equivalent to the pressure on a baseball pitcher. So, even though I know nothing about the game, I was panicked watching him single-handedly trying to ward off the ball. I won't tell you the final score, but considering the circumstances I think Austin performed really well. Go Lightning Bolts! One good thing: I didn't forget the folding camp chair. If it's going to rain, you may as well be comfortable, right?
Any pointers for a new Soccer Widow or Soccer Mom, depending on your preferred terminology?
The Sports Widow
(aka Nan Hall)
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From the Soccer Archives
Sports Widow Rehab from Little League Baseball & Coach's Gifts
July 29, 2008 11:05 PM | 0 Comments
OK. It's over. Seriously. I have proof: I just turned in my 10-year-old son Austin's Little League Baseball All Stars uniform, but drat, wouldn't you know it, I grabbed the wrong black under shirt? There's always something, isn't there?
Tonight we punctuated the Little League Baseball All Star Season and bid for the Washington State championship with an end-of-season barbecue at none other than Arbor Heights Swim & Tennis Club, our local community pool. Because of the rigorous summer schedule and all of the All Star commitments, our family has barely been at the pool, but over the last week we're suddenly members of the Frequent Swimmers Club.
The Sports Widow Experiences Torrential Soccer
June 3, 2007 9:41 AM | 0 Comments
This weekend I travelled to Charlottesville, Virginia, to celebrate my SIGNIFICANTLY OLDER brother Jeff''s 50th birthday, which gave me and my other brother, Scott, a chance to remind Jeff of how ancient he is and HOW MUCH YOUNGER we are. Jeff seemed to appreciate the sentimentality, but I was surprised when he said that--if I wanted to--I could catch an earlier flight home, earlier by about 2 days. HMMMMM. On Sunday, I had a chance to watch my 11-year-old niece Erin's soccer game. Unfortunately, the Seattle weather followed me to the East Coast and the experience was similar to watching soccer in an Amazonian rain forest.
How I Became a Sports Widow
March 2, 2006 7:11 AM | 0 Comments
The only math formula I ever memorized was: Tragedy+Time=Comedy. When I apply this to my relationship with sports, believe me, comedy is the operative word.
