Wanna Be Soccer Mom

I am no soccer mom but I got schooled this season, fo’ sho’. I need to come to early morning games armed: Venti Starbucks in one hand, Eddie Bauer camp chair in the other. Umbrella, optional, although protecting my milky white skin may be a good idea.

Some of these moms take elementary soccer games waaaaayyyy too seriously. There are the loud ones, the ones who talk to the ref, talk to the players, talk to the coach and any other parents who will listen (actually I think they would still speak even if NO ONE was listening).

Do they not understand that all the parents are spectating the same game? Maybe it is too early for them to remember that the other player’s parents are sitting right next to them and can hear their scathing remarks.

They have one word mantras like: “Pressure!” “Heat!” “Positions!”. They are not afraid to openly berate their child for all to hear either, but it can’t be bad parenting if the child can’t hear, right?!

Then there are the dads. These are the guys who probably eat and breathe sports. They have to really restrain themselves and frankly, they do better than the moms most of the time. They shout out the more technical things like position names and  foul plays. They encourage their own kid and everyone else’s too.

Here is what surprised me: I am more soccer mom than I thought possible.  There were a number of times I jumped up from my chair, waved my arms like crazed fan, yelled out encouraging words or a nice lil’ reminder for my sleepy-headed son to “WAKE UP”, cheered on every kid whose name I finally learned toward the end of the season.

I couldn’t believe how tense things got at times when they only needed one more goal to win it.  I wanted so much to channel my inner Jedi mind trick to push the ball up just a few inches further into the goal net. I felt a wee bit peeved at a couple refs who were clearly under-caffeinated as they missed obvious fouls like elbows to the ribs, a foot to the leg trip maneuver, or PUSHING! The hair on my arms might have bristled just a touch when the coach called my son out for day dreaming on the field (again).

Yep, I think I am getting the hang of this sports stuff. Maybe next year I will have a deluxe chair and actually leave for games in enough time to stop by Starbucks once in a while.

This I know for sure: I will keep my words positive and encouraging. I will not berate coaches or refs because I remember that these are people volunteering their time and effort for a thankless job. I will not criticize players because I remember that they are kids like my son and words mean something to their hearts far beyond a soccer field. I will never paint my face yellow and black to represent Hornets nor buy a themed umbrella. Nope. Not THAT much soccer mom.