Soccer, bopper, romper boo.

After three weeks of waiting we finally had our first soccer practice with Titus last night. We have been delayed by Mother Nature who has been throwing hissy fits for over a month. It seems that she doesn't like Tuesday's as she is most upset with the universe on Tuesday's. Titus was not deterred from his euphoria and determination that he would play soccer and donned his "gear' every Tuesday. First week, bitter cold--polar bear mothers wouldn't let their cubs out to play. Second week, rain the likes of which would even concern Noah. Third week, rain again. We didn't want to just tell Titus that it was cancelled without actually having someone call, so we would get him ready and be on the way, only to turn around when they called at the ninth hour.

We have decided that if weather permits, we will all go to support "bubba" in his sport. Kendra had been the designated parent to take Titus to the sporting things because she is the most athletic in our house. Which is like looking at a snail and a frog and saying, "most endoskeletal." It is no contest. I have absolutely no athletic ability whatsoever and find myself completely baffled by sports all together. Kendra gets it, she actually likes it, again with the baffling. I can remember my Dad playing basketball when I was like four or five and coming home from the games with bloody noses. I never went to a game or knew anything else about it other than Dad wore shockingly short shorts, freaky sneakers (Chuck Taylor's when there were ONLY Chuck Taylor's) and muscle shirts with a number on it. That's the extent of my basketball knowledge. And that was the extent of our family's entrance into sports. Lucy did play some games, but I'm not sure what she did--maybe softball and basketball.

There was one time when we went to my Mom's hospital as a family because they had just built this exercise track. you walked around this track and would stop at stations to do these exercises designed to bring you to the peak of physical health. My Mom though it would be great to get us all fit as a fiddle. We were all rather unsettled as it was a really good night on TV and my Dad had planned a full evening of smoking alone outside wandering around doing Dad stuff. At any rate we went through these things and did what they said until the jumping jacks station. It was about two or three away from the end, and we were ready for it to be over--forever! Mom came to the conclusion that we were all wrong in our execution of the jumping jack and it was up to her to show us. Lucy and I usually had trouble containing our laughter when Mom went into education mode. If you have trouble containing your laughter when you Mom is standing still lecturing you about how things should be, you can imagine how hard it was when she was in full jumping jack action. We were so far away from the bathroom--and we had to pee so bad from the laughter. That was until she twisted her knee. Twisted knee=six weeks of crutches; Never going around that blasted track again because the twisted knee sealed the deal=priceless.

Now that I'm the parent of a child in sports I'm not so sure how that will be. I have practiced, very hard, not looking confused or uninterested and think I have it down. To see my boy do anything is thrilling and I could do that all day long, but the whole genre of sports just evade me. At any rate here we were. There were a dozen or so other parents out their with their babies, all convinced that their child was channeling Pele (I googled soccer players he was a very popular fella apparently). Some Dad were running around with their children trying to get them to be warmed up or something, others were talking them up and trying to get them all pumped up and ready for the "big practice." I was standing on the side (there are these white chalky lines that provide a boundary for those playing and those there to watch) and just knew that I was supposed be doing something other than standing. "Is there something that a Dad is supposed to be doing that I don't know about?" "Honey, you are fine, go talk to Titus." "Got it." "Hey bub, you look great in your soccer suit." "Dad look at this great bug!" "Awesome!" "CAN WE ALL GATHER OVER HERE--PRESCHOOL SOCCER CAMP OVER HERE." The coach began with, "Let me tell you a little about my background.." "I could care less about the background--willingness was all he needed." There would be three stations that the kiddos would go through and then we would go home. Every parent was focused on their child no failing. I got tickled watching the other parents freaking out because their child could not perform with perfection from the get go. Many parents were already getting their schedules ready for practice, practice, practice so they could get their soccer game perfect.

I'm not sure how much Titus will love soccer. Baseball is next, he really has a baseball player's body (well, according to Mildred). As long as he learns how to respect others, play with friends, and be a good sport, I don't really care what he does as long as learns to be a good man. I get a huge kick out of forecasting his sporting career around my father-in-law and brother-in-law, "I can't wait to get Titus in cheer leading, I think he'll really love it, he loves gymnastics and tumbling." They are the reddest of rednecks and shutter to think that anyone male and in the family would do such a thing. It's great, almost as great as saying I'm going to vote Democrat and!