The girls like to bounce a ball on the hood of my car because, catching me sleeping there, it is so flippin’ funny to watch me climb up into consciousness and figure out where I am. I am the notorious napping mom. I can sleep anywhere at any decibel level and with any kind of sensory fracas swirling around me. Breaks between games, water breaks, during games, makes no never mind to me.
On cold days (Yes, Virginia, it does get cold in Florida sometimes.) it is sweet when, sprawled nodding, drooling and possibly snoring in my soccer mom chair, the soccer community, as a whole, covers me up with a beach towel.
Wait. That could be so that I won’t further embarrass them. In part probably.
On hot days they rearrange umbrellas while I loll in a sweating fitful doze so the Florida sun doesn’t sear my glow-in-the-dark Caucasian hide right off. “Tori, your mama is so WHITE!”
The second half of the game is usually pretty exciting though, keeps me wide awake, since the sizing up is done and the two-level strategy is complete. First, Coach has got their number on the plays the other team are likely to foolishly repeat and the girls will now stick those plays hard to win. And, second, the girls have pinpointed the elbow-throwing-hook-tripping-fake-injury-flopping-cry-for-the-ref bimbos on the other team. Those chickies will now understand why you don’t mess with our girls until the last minutes of the game and then they best have a solid agreed upon walk of shame escape route.
This must be said, or it wouldn’t be an honest story.
The game is within the game then.
And when they are “on,” there is dazzling magical fake-out footwork, cheetah-like sprint break-aways to goal, hilariously witty field chatter, fantastically precise field changes in wide arcing V-shaped passes designed to run the other team into exhaustion, crosses, headers and goal kicks oh my…and smiles. Great big smiles.
And when they are “off,” and just cannot pull up the goods, they may complain a little, make a few mistakes, well up with trembling lower lips, but they learn what it is to lose gracefully. To come back next time loaded with new resolve.
Ann Coulter, praying mantis that she is, can indeed sit and spin. Soccer Moms, with all our SUV-loving-sidelines-prowling-kid-dedicated-crazy-love-committed activities are doing a crapload more real stuff than she is, or will ever do, to instill courage and dedication to this generation of kids. I can’t see anyone naming a soccer sport complex or much else after her, but they might just name one after a Soccer Mom. Mark it!