The Soccer Curse.

I do believe we have cursed the fine sport of children's soccer. I woke yesterday to the sound of rain. I pondered it for a bit and decided that I hadn't really been looking forward to soccer anyway. Then I thought that rescheduled soccer games were even worse. I came downstairs, logged in, lo and behold soccer is on. I pondered that for a bit too. Why in the world would we want to play soccer in the rain. But even 35 minutes to game time there was no indication of cancellation and the rain was mostly stopped so off we went.

At the point we were packed to leave my husband suddenly appears. I ask why and he says he didn't know who was taking the boy to soccer. I didn't know there was any choice in the matter. When we get there the boy is winding up with anxiety. He doesn't see anyone, what if there aren't any other players, what if the coach isn't there. I have thought the same things but school myself to murmured reassurances because what I fear most is another melt down. As we top the rise, the coach greets Will and he relaxes a tiny bit.

I set my chair get him his ball and get the snacks out of my way and discover I've forgotten his water bottle. I briefly think of going home for it. I think of the fact that the cell phone is not in my purse but sitting on the counter at home where it does me no good. Then I remember that I bought bottled water for work. It's still in the car. I go fetch a bottle from the car. They boy's anxiety is still pretty high and he has followed me nearly the whole way because 'he needs a hug'.

The kids warm up. The boy does not listen to the coach at all. Minor meltdown when someone kicks his ball away and he misses his turn at a shot on goal. He is furious. The coach says some things and he keeps moving. I fade back hoping that this doesn't escallate and after another go he recovers.

We ended up making it through the whole game. No major breakdowns. He ran a lot and while he's mostly ineffective on the field, he played. There were a couple excellent blocks - which is to say he happened to be in the way and the ball bounced right off him. There was even on beautiful stellar pass to one of the better players who then scored (I think that was one of only 3 or 4 contacts with the ball). At the end they shook hands with their opponent and he gleefully ran back shouting "my mom has the snacks!"