Saturday, September 12, 2009

The Sports Page

All I know about children’s sports activities is from living in one small town. Our baseball/T-ball/basketball teams are sponsored by businesses. Fees are low. Each team has appropriately numbered shirts in different colors with the names of the sponsors on the back. Therefore, the green-and-white shirts of the ABC Canvas Repair team are quite distinct from the yellow-and-black shirts of the XYZ Fertilizer group. Games are played on weekday evenings, not Saturdays or Sundays because people need or want to go out of town on those days.
I never lived anywhere big city enough to be a soccer mom. However, now my first-grade grandson is playing with a local group of children his age who go to a nearby city to play. Now I am a Soccer Grandmom. I wikipediaed the term “soccer mom” just to see if I fit. I do work outside the home; I no longer actually have to shuffle the children to the event although I do help out occasionally; my minivan years are in the past, but I do drive a small SUV (Which I dearly love, but not as much as I loved my minivan); I may still be middle class although I feel my position in that class is dropping rapidly; I am married. I am thirty-something. Twice. I am not actually a swing voter, but I vote conscientiously and almost never vote a straight ticket. My town is much too small to have suburbs—we probably don’t qualify for any kind of “urb.”

This morning I went to the first game of the season. I did not have a lawn chair or a blanket—I fully expected bleachers. If small town Texas can have bleachers, why wouldn’t small city New Mexico have them? On the other hand, I do have an SUV with comfy leather seats that made it just fine down the slightly muddy back road in back of the soccer fields to park facing the field. I watched in comfort, joined by my son and the player’s 2-year-old sister, who watched in some delight by standing on the console and sticking her head out the moon roof. The biggest shock, however, was actually finding the game. I knew that grandson would be wearing an orange shirt (Are they called jerseys?). I knew that he also has a blue shirt. Dumbly, I assumed his team colors were orange and blue—rather zippy. I considered this when I dressed for the game. My blue shirts were all in the laundry, and I don't own an orange one. Texas high school football has me trained. You do NOT show up wearing the colors of the opposition, even if you don't know what they are. Therefore, I carefully dressed in gray sweats, gray handknit socks, and black shoes. I was noncommittal and without group identity. When I arrived, I looked hard for the orange team. There were, I think, 8 games all going at the same time. ALL the games were orange against blue. How confusing! And how unimaginative! There was also no scoreboard. I have no idea who won, but perhaps beginning soccer is like T-ball in that no one really cares. The point is just to be there and practice some of the skills. On the other hand, watching was lots of fun even though it lacked the everybody-stare-at-one-kid-at-a-time intensity of T-ball.
After the game we split up to run errands. I did my grocery shopping and then sat in the parking lot waiting for the family to show up and Chili's to open and read much of my assignment for the Bible study class that I am taking--the part of Genesis from the call of Abraham to the meeting of Jacob and Rachel. I still have a little bit more to read for this week. I also listened to an audiobook on the way there and back--London Is the Best City in America. Fun so far, but I'll reserve my opinion until I finish it.

I had intended to take a sock to knit, but it is just as well that I did not have an active 2 yr. old and size 1 ½ needles in the front seat at the same time.

1 comment:

A Buckeye Girl Reads said...

You just described all of my sisters and I soccer games. Bleachers didn't come into play until middle school.

All the games happened at the same time at the same park. Gotta love small towns.