to follow my female intuition?
Yesterday, the coach of my 14 1/2 year son’s champion soccer team thought it would be a fit ending for the season to have the yearly parent vs. kids soccer game. Now this use to be a lot of fun, especially when the kids were in DD. It wasn’t too bad when they were 10 and 11 years old. It is NOT as much fun when the kids have facial hair, deep voices, weigh more than you, are well conditioned, have been playing all season and just won the championship while we, the parents have been cheering them on from the side lines, butts firmly implanted in our nifty folding chairs.
I had premonitions about the game all day, but I told myself, I’m a wise woman. I know it’s only a game. If some kid wants to take the ball – he can have it. I’m too young for knee replacements but old enough to remember how a dislocated patella feels. I also forwarned my husband that this was only a game, it’s for fun, let’s not get too serious.
And then the coach reminded the parents that the kids had won for two years and the parents had won for two years and this, this was kind of like our own championship. You could feel the endorphines and electricity in the us geriatrics getting higher and higher as he spoke.
Whistle blew, game started. Our coach is from Ireland I think. You know over in those European countries when a baby is born he is handed a soccer ball. Toddlers aren’t allowed to toddle unless they are kicking a little ball in front of them! They are born to play this game. The coach started off like he was playing for the finals of the World Cup. Another gentleman on our team was also quite competitive. His wife told me that as his sons got older, it was a real struggle for him to give up his own playing time to see his own kids play. The two of them could have taken on the entire team by themselves for the amount of help the rest of us 14 odd parents were able to provide.
I was careful, I was cautious. When the ball came for me I watched to see who was going for it. There are certain kids I just knew couldn’t see the difference between me and the 14 year old kid they played against last week in terms of going after the competition. I wasn’t really willing to push anybody.
When the half came we were tied 2 to 2. Sam and Gabe were over at the high school doing an extra swim practice so it was time for me to pick them up. My husband, Pete, said he would go.
“No, you stay, I’ll get them.”
But I knew he was much better for the team than I was. So I left picked up the kids and came right back. It took me about 20 minutes. In that amount of time, Mr. Pete got a surge of adrenaline/testosterone toxicity and made a brave play for the ball as it came streaking towards him. He reached, he missed, he pulled his knee.
When I came back he was sitting on the ground eating pizza and told me that he thought he messed up his knee a little, but he could walk on it. A little funny but not bad. By 4:00 a.m. it was bad. Red, swollen, scary. Doctor said to keep it iced, give him Motrin and come in tomorrow.
I’m hoping he’ll be O.K. A couple of weeks in a knee immobilizer wouldn’t be too terrible. I’m hoping we’re not looking at surgery.
I think the lesson learned here is sometimes if something sounds a little daring and dangerous it probably is. And as two struggling breadwinners, maybe those are chances we just can’t take any more.
Please feel free to leave a comment under the posting, or sign my Spiritbook (guestbook). You can chat with me on the tag board to the right!
