Hold that soccer scholarship

Last night was Mark's first soccer game. It was a practice game, but Mark was thrilled to wear his new uniform. (I've noticed he likes his fancy sports uniforms more than he likes the actual sports...) He was also thrilled to bring his water bottle, which he'd frozen that afternoon.

The boys were antsy, excited to play. I was surprised at how fast the other team lined up on field, all in matching uniforms. They had obviously practiced together (a LOT), and their seasoned players knew exactly where to stand.

Our team...well, they were energetic. They weren't quite sure where to stand, and bunched up midfield, laughing and punching one another. The coach spread them out, blew the whistle and watched the other team shoot right past them and score a goal.

"Wow," said the grandpa sitting next to me. "They're never gonna get a pizza party playing like that!"

The other team made another goal, and then another. Things were looking grim, and they'd only been playing 10 minutes.

Pretty soon, our team woke up, and started kicking the ball. Most of them did, anyway.

Mark was trash-talking a kid on the other team when the ball sailed right past him. He watched it soar over his head and land near the goalie. Then, instead of helping out the goalie, he turned and ran up field, away from his team and the ball.

"What are you doing, Mark?" his coach screamed.

Mark shrugged and yelled back, "I don't know!"

It was painfully obvious he was being honest. Mark's terrified of getting kicked in the head, or the shins, and wouldn't get anywhere near the ball when the other boys were attacking it.

Twenty minutes later, Mark's enthusiasm finally surfaced. Unfortunately, it was for the ice chips in the coach's cooler. He and the coach's younger soon sat on the sidelines, fishing out dirty ice cubes and completely ignoring the game.

"Mark, eyes on the ball!" I called out to him. He took that as nagging, not warning, and dismissed me, until the ball flew dangerously close to him, followed by kicking cleats and stampeding boys.

"Whoa, that almost hit me!" he called out, surprised. I realized my supportive mothering skills are rusty, because the first thing I thought was, "Well, DUH!!" (Luckily, my filters were on and I didn't actually say that out loud.)

The ice chips ran out, so Mark started pounding his frozen water bottle on the ground. When the coach rotated him back in, he handed over the bottle. It immediately started dripping over my backpack through a small crack he'd pounded in the bottom.

I hoped Mark might try harder with a little encouragement.

"Good try!" I shouted when the ball came near him. He ran away from the oncoming mob of boys fighting over it.

The ball then dropped right in front of him, alone on the field, and he had no choice but to kick it. I yelled some more encouragement.

"Good kick, Mark!" I yelled. "Now aim it at the other team's goal!" It took most of the game, but he finally kicked it away from his own goal.

Mark rotated out of the game again, and sat down next to me. Now I was all into the game, and when another boy got in a good kick, I cheered him on, too.

"You never say 'Good kick!' to me," Mark pouted. I just ignored him and his selective hearing.

Mark's team had awoken from their first-game daze, and were kicking some serious booty. They scored a goal, prompting the grandpa next to me to proclaim, "There's the pizza party!" They scored a few more goals, and Grandpa kept upping the food quality for the party.

"Steak dinner!" he cried at the next goal. By the time the game ended, the boys were up to a lobster dinner.

The game ended as the moon was rising. The boys were completely spent, but happy. The coach gave a rousing post-game speech, which was mostly lost on them, as they smacked each other with water bottles and fought over who ran the fastest.

I left feeling pretty happy. Mark won't get anywhere near the ball, so I can pretty much kiss a college soccer scholarship goodbye. But not all is lost -- he was a good sport, he made contact with the ball, and he didn't actually kick the ball into his own goal. All of which I chalk up to a successful first game!

And who knows...maybe it'll spur interest in a college scholarship for something else...like science, or ice chip technology!