Anyone that has seen four-year-olds play "organized" soccer know that a better name for this sport would be mosh-pit-ball. Such was the case at Lucy's first soccer game. Since each team only plays six players at a time Lucy sat out the start of the game. Lucy watch intensely as her teammates and opponents clustered around the ball. Not 30 seconds into the match one of the bigger boys was trampled in the feverish attempt to kick the ball. He cried as play stopped to examine his injuries. The coach needed a replacement. He looked to Lucy and said, "Lucy, do you want to go in and play?" Fearing that she was traumatized by the brutality of the scene that had just unfolded before her I was sure she would say no. To my great surprise she jumped up and joined the game. No sooner had play resumed than an angry mob again formed around the ball. Lucy was in the midsts of it somewhere, although it was hard to determine where. Occasionally the ball would break loose from the pack and a player had a clear shot. But these moments were fleeting at best, for as soon as the ball broke free a new wave of hysterical hyenas would encircle their pray. It was in one of these moments that the ball emerged from the fray.
Close behind in toe, at the head of the resurgence, was Lucy kicking the ball. Unfortunately the cluster of players had formed near the opposition's goal, and the now free ball was still more than half the a pitch's distance to our goal. I knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the players again collapsed on the ball engulfing Lucy. Besides, I wasn't even sure Lucy realized which way to kick the ball, let alone have the speed and strength to outrun both contingencies of players. Astonishingly all three things occurred simultaneously. So quick in fact, that I didn't have time to close my gaping jaw to pick-up the camera and record this miraculous occurrence (thankfully the neighbors had a quicker draw on the lens). I watched in stunned silence as Lucy sprinted the entire length of the field flanked on all sides by 11 other competitors kicking the ball over and over...in the right direction never-the-less! With one final blow to the ball the white and black sphere whisked gracefully across the grass and into the back of the net. GOAL! The sidelines exploded in cheers and applause. And Lucy just stood there as calmly as if she were watching Saturday morning cartoons. Was I proud of my little Mia Hamm? Let there be no doubt. Did I embellish this story? For sure. But that's what Dad's do best, glorify the athletic accomplishments of their children.
Close behind in toe, at the head of the resurgence, was Lucy kicking the ball. Unfortunately the cluster of players had formed near the opposition's goal, and the now free ball was still more than half the a pitch's distance to our goal. I knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the players again collapsed on the ball engulfing Lucy. Besides, I wasn't even sure Lucy realized which way to kick the ball, let alone have the speed and strength to outrun both contingencies of players. Astonishingly all three things occurred simultaneously. So quick in fact, that I didn't have time to close my gaping jaw to pick-up the camera and record this miraculous occurrence (thankfully the neighbors had a quicker draw on the lens). I watched in stunned silence as Lucy sprinted the entire length of the field flanked on all sides by 11 other competitors kicking the ball over and over...in the right direction never-the-less! With one final blow to the ball the white and black sphere whisked gracefully across the grass and into the back of the net. GOAL! The sidelines exploded in cheers and applause. And Lucy just stood there as calmly as if she were watching Saturday morning cartoons. Was I proud of my little Mia Hamm? Let there be no doubt. Did I embellish this story? For sure. But that's what Dad's do best, glorify the athletic accomplishments of their children.
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