Soccer Widow

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)