>I’m Back from Wherever I’ve Been

>Sadly, George was a no-show at Saturday’s rematch. His wife came late with their kid and didn’t even have the decency to come over and challenge me to a verbal throw down. It was all very disappointing because I love verbal throw downs. I mean, I’ve never actually had a real one, but I have them in my head all the time!

Still, the fallout from that fateful day was definitely in effect. In the parking lot, I saw the woman from George’s team who had, with me, tried to calm him down. I smiled in recognition. She glared back. Shit. I’d heard later that even more e-mails had been sent out from the George family about us that the one that we saw, and I guess they had an impact.

At the game, the parents from each team kept well apart from each other. On one rare occasion, Punky actually kicked the ball all the way down the field and assisted on a goal. “Great job, Punky!” I shouted. “I’m so proud of you!” I could literally feel the rays from a dozen laser death gazes radiating over me. I looked over at the other team’s parents and saw a whole bunch of scowling. What the? I thought to myself, baffled.

Then I remembered. It was Silent Saturday, a bizarre new event our league is trying this year. We received an e-mail last week with the rules, which basically said that you could absolutely cheer for your child, but it had to be positive and couldn’t involve any form of direction.

Apparently, no one on the other team had read the e-mail. Throughout the game, they were completely silent, frowning and whispering among themselves every time I opened my mouth. Ignorant indignation? Bring it on. I cheered even more loudly to make up for them.

Of course I’m trying to put a good face on it, but I have been really disappointed in three-year-old soccer, mostly because of this situation. I guess I had envisioned games played in the dappled sunlight of crisp autumn days, with three-year-olds frolicking on the field while their parents laughed and sipped coffee and took lots of pictures and video.

Instead, I’ve seen anger from parents. Frustration. Accusations. Apologies for the athletic performance of three-year-olds. It’s a little depressing, really, because I feel like I’ve gotten a glimpse of the future, and I don’t like it one bit. I try to laugh it off, but I don’t like being glared at because I’m (appropriately) yelling for my daughter and her team. I don’t like all of the ill will directed at my husband every time he plays a team member who was assigned to us, a girl to whom he has to give playing time.

Onto other topics. Last week, as many of you know, was rough. Hubs is still recovering from his staph infection, Bruiser is still recovering from a bronchial infection, and I have come down with a minor, though annoying, cold. Because I didn’t do much computer stuff last week, I’m now backed up with work and it’s going to take me a few days to get back on top of things. So here’s a small effort in that direction.