Remember that soccer mom that posted yesterday? SO not here today. Today was the championship game. Complete with intense goals, shoot outs, and even a call to 9-1-1! We don’t do things halfway in our league. ( And if bragging, proud moms make you want to hurl your lunch into the nearest trash can, go read another post where I am bitter and call the PTA names. Those are always good to defuse the sugar of a good mom brag post.)
Thinking the game was about an hour earlier than it actually was, there was plenty of warm-up time. That basically equates to a family soccer game. With an empty field and 4 of us waiting for the game (while Z hung out with his team getting their “war paint” on), we brought it. Oh, yes, we did. It was the girls against the guys. That basically equates to me and a 5 year old against Clint and a 13 year old. Fair? Not so much. But we rocked the house anyway. (Sidenote: We have some really good friends who do a lot of co-ed adult sports together that we have known for years. The kind of friends you would take vacations with. Clint and I started talking about joining them again. Clint used to play indoor soccer with the team, but seeing as I was knocked up at the time, I couldn’t. The team has changed drastically, but knowing that our friends who are fun loving and not cut-throat players are still playing, we just may join them again. Let everyone have a moment of silence while we pray that my sanity returns.)
Once the game started, it was a nail biter. We scored. They scored. We scored. They scored. We scored…or did we…is that…we scored! (That one had everyone confused but it counted!) Then they got the final score. A Tied championship game. Which leads to…a shoot-out. A shoot-out where it is one on one with the goalie. Thank heavens Z is no longer goalie or I would have passed out.
We kick. Miss.
They kick. Miss.
We kick. SCOOOOOORRRRE!
Then the thing you do NOT want to see happen at any sporting even, especially one for young kids, their next player went to kick, slipped on the grass and fell hard on her tailbone. The scream of pain made my heart lurch out of my chest into my throat and onto the field. It was not a cry of minor pain. It was serious. She couldn’t move for a while which scared all of us. Finally, we got a doctor to her. (Thank you Dr. Scrub Wearer for wearing your scrubs and being noticable.) Someone called 9-1-1. It definitely put things in perspective when you hear the sirens and see an ambulance pull up onto the soccer field. Thankfully, the young girl is fine and just bruised. In pain and not going to be running for a while, but fine. I don’ think there was a mother on that sideline who wasn’t teary eyed watching this young girl hurt and scared. She definitely earned her standing ovation when they got her off of the field.
It took a while to get the team calm again, but as they say, “The game must go on.” Two more shots each. Miss. Miss. Miss. Miss.
If you are keeping score at home, that means my son’s team won by ONE point in the shoot-out.
I have never been more proud of our team than during the medal ceremony when they were cheering for the other team and gave the loudest applause and chants for the girl that was hurt. This team has class.
I would say I was proud of my boy. I could say that. But as a writer, my agent is always telling me: Don’t tell me. SHOW ME. So, here. I will show you.
(Who do you think looks proudest?)
And of course, I would be remiss if I did not give the obligatory photo of him receiving his medal. I did, after all, admit that I would do as much yesterday. Here he is receiving his first place championship medal.
(I taught him everything he knows. Yeah, right. But I did drive him to 8,437 practices in the past few years. That counts for something.)