I love soccer season.
I love the spring weather, and standing in the sun, until little rivulets of sweat run down your back like the Euphrates during flood season, and sitting on the bleachers when the rain is coming down strong and the wind is blowing in a minus twenty-three degrees windchill from the north.
I also love soccer season because it gives me some pictures to smack on the blog when I have nothing worthwhile to write about.
Not that anything that I write is actually worthwhile, but tonight I seem to be suffering greatly from the Good Ideas Blockage, because it’s hard to generate enough material to write about when the most difficult thing you did all day was to fold the load of whites and raise a coffee mug to your lips while you spent the morning talking.
(Don’t tell Hubs, though. He seems to think that my life is one long coffee date after another, when I simply say that it’s one giant load of whites and socks and dish towels after another.)
Today, the mercury in the thermometers surprised us and jumped clear to 68 degrees, and we felt like we were all vacationing in Fiji, except there was no one to bring us little umbrella-filled drinks.
No matter. The weather was perfect for some soccer, which is a good thing, because this was the night of back-to-back-to-back games.
We started with little K’s game, and if there’s anything cuter than kindergarten soccer, I’d like to hear about it. Kindergarten soccer tickles my funny bone and makes me giggle out loud, and tonight’s match-up was no exception.
K gave the game all he had, and then he wanted to know who brought some treats, and what kind of treats they brought, and how many treats everyone could have. Sometimes kindergarten soccer doesn’t progress beyond the post-game snacks.
And then…my personal favorite snapshot! This is the traditional pose for kindergarten soccer, as the player squints at the sidelines, trying to determine if those are bags of Cheez-Its or Cheetos that will be passed out after the game wraps itself up.
Unfortunately, the boy has the exact same color of jersey that his cousin K has, and I’m not sure that the Great Soccer Association could have picked an uglier color. However, we ran into some Longhorn fans on the sidelines, who told us, “We actually stooped to begging for that color for our team! Hook ’em, Horns!”
Dub-ya and B, who play on the same team, got sweet BLACK jerseys. They didn’t get those ugly burned-orange ones!
And then I’d really like to just go ahead and claim my Excellent Photography in the Name of Journalism Award for this next shot, except I didn’t take this next picture. The boy took it. MY boy took this picture of his cousin B using his head against a soccer ball. Apparently, the kid fixes VCRs, wins contests for writing short stories, and has now added high-quality sports photography to his list of capabilities.
Sadly, my photographic skills were at an all-time low tonight. In all honesty, I think I took over 175 pictures between the three games, and I totally nailed the art of the blurry action shot.
Nailed it. In a huge, elaborate and very grand way. So really, I’d like to offer you more pictures on the old blog post tonight, but your eyes will double over and make you feel like you’ve hit the sauce a little hard this evening. My ten-year-old plum outshone me behind the camera today.
Happy Monday night, y’all.