Today was my daughter's first real soccer game. It was also my first time refereeing a game after my training class. I'm happy to say that it went very well for both of us. I knew all the right things to do, and was far more authoritative than even the coaches. I really enjoyed being out on the field, encouraging the kids to keep running (on both teams), giving them high-fives, waving them thumbs-ups, and offering congratulatory smiles. It was great.
As for my daughter, she had a wonderful time, too. She scored four goals, two of them were all her, the other two were sort of kicked in by the other team as she was right up next to the goal. It was awesome. She loved being out on the field and playing hard and kicking and pushing and running beside all the other little girls.
I was a little nervous about how it would go. She had watched her older brother play for a few years, and I could tell she really wanted to try it out. However, she also gets tired easily, and during last spring's "season", she took to laying down flat on her back in the middle of the field and panting up at the sun. It was quite dramatic, and funny in it's own way, but it drove me crazy.
But today, I couldn't have been more proud. She got tired, yes, but the peer pressure, I think, drove her on and she just doesn't like to let others get the better of her. So she did everything today I'd hoped she would: she really enjoyed herself, she played every minute she was on the field, and she even scored a few goals. It was a wonderful time.
Fine: be that way, Mr. Raccoon.
1 day ago