Yesterday's game was the fifth grade group. We left the field with a sour disposition because the coach of the opposing team was trash talking. Towards the end of the first half, he yelled at his players to gang up on one kid because "he's the only good one." Can you imagine how the rest of the team felt? The other coach thinks we all suck. Our coach, who had been remarkably patient, finally called asked the referee to curb the tongue of the opposing coach. The referee was visibly annoyed at this. Is it that tough to get coaches and referees that the league allows such unsportsmanlike conduct? I'm not usually on a soapbox but it was truly appalling.
Today's game with the seventh graders was played in extremely hot and humid weather. They were impressively energetic. They were also enthusiastic, considering that the game was not an official one because a) no referee showed up, and b) the other team was short two players so we lent them two of ours. I really enjoyed watching the guys who played with the other team come back into our huddle during half time and at the end of the game. They got high-fived and congratulated by their teammates even though they helped the opposing squad. I wish one particular soccer coach could take a sportsmanship lesson from these kids.
Hubby is watching House M.D. in the other room (kids are playing Over the Hedge on Playstation in here) and I think I'll go in and join him with my crocheting after I shut down the laptop. I'm about two thirds done with my latest afghan, a mix of mostly maroon and hunter green that should be festive for the fall equinox. It's a neat way to be mindlessly productive while sedentary but it's also a labor of love. Every time I finish one of these four foot blankets, I think of my cousin's daughter who lost her battle with cancer last June. A bunch of ladies where I work donate handmade afghans to a local children's hospital and other humanitarian organizations. I'm happy and proud to help.
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