Thanksgiving weekend, the oldest daughter participated in a soccer tournament with her team. The soccer tournament, is one of those weekend consuming affairs that gives you those hard earned parenting stripes that if you knew what it involved, you would probably leave those stripes right where they were. Tournaments are perfect storms of the little things that make it the rabid female dog. The odd scheduling, (early morning game with a late afternoon game), the remote locale (somewhere out in the boonies), the down time between games, team meals, small talk with other parents, splitting the bill and never having cash. Not to mention the general anxiety of hoping your kid isn’t the one who screws up on the field.
While the kids get to compete on the field, an unspoken, somewhat implicit competition exists on the sidelines between the parents. What’s on the line? Nothing as trivial as bragging rights. No, something far more important than that. The question to be answered in each soccer match is which team has the better set of parents?
The battle lines are drawn with clusters of parents sitting together in their carefully placed sport-brella chairs, discussing last night’s sleepover or some current event, or heaven forbid the weather. While the game is being played, we cheer on the girls, check the refs, and offer support when they make mistakes. It’s difficult to do sometimes, especially when, for whatever reason, the other team seems to pipe their support in through bullhorns. Thankfully, these battles are not won and lost with vuvuzelas and volume alone.
The girls still have to play on the field; and after suffering through a barrage screeches from the others mothers (let’s not forget the barks of their fathers) of the other team, there is nothing sweeter than hearing the heavy dose of hushmouth that quiets the other side as our team scores the goal that takes the lead. It’s not like you can ask the other parents to stop being annoying, or do you mind breathing on another field? We have to wait patiently for our daughters skills to do the talking.
And when it’s all said and done, and our daughters walk off of the field victorious in battle, there’s a feeling of validation in the air. Not just validation of the hours spent, and the dedication and support you’ve given your little one in both defeat and victory; but validation that you are a better parent than those loud-mouthed cretins on the other side of the field.
