Last night was the kids' final soccer game of the summer so we had a barbeque and a parents vs. kids game to celebrate.
There were about 25 kids and 10 parents who were willing to put aside our dignity for the sake of our children's amusement. Before the kickoff the coach/ref gave us our instructions. "Play hard but LOSE". We were ready to go. Let me tell you, after the first 10 minutes my legs were begging for mercy. We were only using half the field but all the stopping and starting was more intense than I remembered. I'm obviously more the start slow and stay slow kind of exerciser rather than a constant sprinter and stopper.
The parents got the first goal before we remembered we were supposed to lose. We "let" the kids get 2 more goals then we mums realized something. We wanted to win. Screw the kids' fun. They were starting to get obnoxious anyway and were quickly nyah-nyahing their way to early bedtimes. The dads were making purposefully bad passes and "accidentally" falling all over the field but the mums were getting breakaways and dekeing out our babies. You'd think that it'd be the other way around. One mum said we're the consolers/cheerleaders anyway so why not give it everything we got? Hells, yeah. We tied it up (with the mums being the scorers) then the coach saw the fire in our eyes. He made crazy calls like "passing too well" and ignored the many hand balls by the kids. I definitely sensed a bias. The kids scored twice because really the game was now dads, coach/ref and kids vs. mums. But we were really playing hard. I even tackled a 7 year old. I actually picked him up and carried him as I dribbled down the field. What? Another whistle? Whatever for?
After an awesome cross from Tiara's mum who was bralessly wearing a pretty pink summer dress and sandals, I scored the last goal. So satisfying. It almost made up for the 40km/h soccer ball to the breadbasket I suffered earlier. That kid is so on my list.
So the kids still won but we mums got to show the kids and dads that we were a force to be reckoned with. Not that they didn't already know. It also got the fire in my belly about playing soccer this fall. If I can stop limping around the house, that is. Oh, my poor stiff knee.
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