Full Circle

The town where we live is affectionately called Soccer City USA.   I'm not sure why, but for some reason every fall this town gets bitten by the soccer bug and every family migrates to the sidelines driven by some odd homing instinct.  And it's been like this forever.   

I grew up in a soccer family.  All three of us kids played, my sister and I competitively; my Dad refereed, served on the board, and coached; and my mom drove us to practices and games, and kept our uniforms clean.  (Did I ever mention Moms are always the unsung heroes?)  

I've been plotting my girls entrance into the sport since before we adopted them.  According to several coaches I know, girls with dance and gymnastics experience shine on the field.  Therefore, my girls are in dance and gymnastics.   (I know, pathetic.)  I'm proud to say both girls know, we don't touch soccer balls with our hands.  My dad taught both girls to dribble through cones and shoot at the corners.  And those girls can really put some mustard on that ball.  Soccer is their legacy, for crying out loud.  

So, imagine my dismay when La Nina looked at her first soccer field and said, "Why would you play THAT?  They just run around and get sweaty."  Okay, whatever, she's a girly-girl.  This happens in soccer families from time to time.   We've never hassled her, and there was always Maggie.  She's been the great hope.  She's naturally tough, she doesn't take any crap despite her small size AND she doesn't mind getting sweaty. 

Tonight was the big night.  Soccer sign-ups.  I had Maggie sign the player agreement (she was so excited she forgot the 'g's...it was really cute.)  And guess who suddenly was intrigued by soccer?  Yep, La Nina.  So, I headed off to the local middle school with two registration packets.  Forget the fact, the La Nina asked in detail the odds of earning a trophy for playing as well as the type of treats served at half time.  

After fighting my way through traffic, I wandered into the auditorium for a major blast from the past.  A ton of girls I played with were working as volunteers.  All marveling I had two old enough to play...forget the fact, their kids are in high school.   Then something funny happened.  I couldn't get out my married name.  I actually wrote my maiden name by accident.  After a great deal of stammering, blushing and explaining that I did know my name, I think I got it corrected.  Two things that were perfectly clear:   Maggie's name was next to mine and so was my Dad's (as the assistant coach), so I'm sure I'll get the right team.

PS-  I'm coaching Maggie's team this year because she was the first to commit.  If La Nina plays next year, I promised I would coach her team.