It's play-off weekend for Noah's soccer league. He had two games today (they won both) and at least one tomorrow. If they win the game tomorrow it looks like they will be in the finals.
Noah does surprisingly well on the field; even if he does have a compulsive need to do a somersault as he runs down the field, and a flying leap here and there as he runs for the ball. I'm OK with those brief moments of silliness, because when his foot does connect with the ball it is solid.
Sitting through two games today was a lot of soccer if you ask me. It was 55 degrees, but windy, and I was COLD. I'm a fair weather spectator at best.
I consider it a funny twist of motherhood that a decidedly non-athletic, non-sports loving me ends up with a son that needs the activity of sports like soccer to survive. I think Kiel is going to be a big sports playing kid as well.
Tomorrow I am wearing long underwear. And taking two blankets.
Overall though, it is nice to see Noah doing well at something that is so "normal." Even better is being able to sit on the sidelines and not worry that other parents are looking at us thinking "oh yeah, they are the parents of that kid."
Instead I got to sit on the sidelines two parents down from the kid with that parent. You know, the parent that thinks he's the personal coach of his kid and can't shut up.
I feel so bad for this kid. His dad yelled at him non-stop when he was on the field. At one point he missed the ball and his dad yelled at him and you could see him tear up and try so hard not to cry.
These kids are 8 and 9 years old. Why do parents have to turn it into something so intense? This kid is not going to be a soccer star, no matter how much his dad coaches
yells at him. So why can't the dad just let go and let the coach of the team do the coaching, and let his son have fun?
What do you all think?