I remember that moment so well because it was the only timed in my life I have been called sporty. I have never been linked to sports in any way shape or form.
I have always wanted to be sporty. I remember trying to dress like the girls who were talented in sports. I tried to copy them. I always failed miserably. As I did with every sport I tried.
I tried soccer when I was in fourth grade. I loved it. I wasn't any good. They had me playing in a relatively unimportant position, but I loved every second of it.
When I was in eighth grade I made the school play. I was to be Lisle in Sound of Music. There were gasps of amazement when people read my name on the cast list. I would have to dance. Could uncoordinated me actually pull it off?
When I was in ninth grade I tried to be on the high school swim team but because of some medical issues I had to drop out of that. I loved the three weeks I was able to join the practices, though.
In high school I discovered the world of dancing and found my little niche, though secretly I still longed to be handy with a ball. I can dominate in air hockey, but I longed to be like my little sister who was on the hockey team.
It turns out the only sport my body is really good at is yoga. Which is wonderful because I really love yoga.
But technically speaking, yoga isn't a sport.
And so perhaps because of my bitter disappointment with sports, we signed Keith up for a soccer team.
I think they should televise Tiny Tots Soccer. They should also charge a lot of money to attend. It is the funniest thing I have ever seen! Tiny bodies trying to maneuver a ball around each other. There is no concept for team playing, and no one really cares if the ball is shot into the wrong goal, everyone stands up and cheers anyway. The little kid scored a point! No big deal that it was on his own team, he scored!
Yesterday's game was my favorite to watch. Keith's team played against the team we had wanted him to be on. The team all his friends were on. They were so funny! A little girl half the size of the rest of them was really good at worming her way into the fray and stealing the ball. My friend's little boy kept playing in the goal like it was a fort. There were a lot of ball tackles where the kid would jump on the ball and hold it tightly to his/her chest until the forest of feet grew less dense. The child would then stand up, still hugging the ball, and move to a spot on the field where they were alone, then set the ball down and go for the goal.
My stomach hurt from laughing by the end of the game.
But yesterday (Keith's second game) Keith was mad and declared he never wanted to play soccer again. He hadn't made a single goal that time. He said he had only tried a little hard, and hadn't done his best. His first game he was very spoiled and made 3 (or if you ask him, 18) goals so not making any this time was hard on him. I told him he has to finish the season and then we can talk about never playing again, but for now, I paid for it so he has to finish it.
Besides, I want someone in my family to be sporty for more than just their scent preference!