|Tug, Sheridan and company (and a pregnant me)|
If I care not a whit for professionals who play the games, you can imagine my keen interest in sports back when my own children played. None of them were exactly kindergarten standouts, so what I recall most were the baseball games that lasted well into the night (on unlit fields I might add), when the frenzied dad-coaches swore they could still see the ball and we could go one more inning. I also remember the Arctic chill of late-fall evening soccer. When "our" team was behind, I secretly hoped their opponents would crush them quickly so we could all go home. Confession: during an early Rose basketball game, I was totally engrossed in conversation with my friend Holly. At one point the ref, who happened to be a friend from church, actually came over to me and informed me that Rosie had just made a basket (her very first, in fact), and that I should pretend later to have seen it. I viewed watching their games as my motherly cross to bear, and counted the days until I would be off the hook forever.
Well, guess what? It's happened. I am no longer contractually obligated to sit on any bleachers, anywhere. And you know what? I kinda miss it. Not the sports themselves of course--nor the sports-crazed parents (one parent of a kid on Evan's team was given to shrieking at the children, even following them out to the parking lot to rant and rave). I miss being an important game-watcher--important to my kids, that is--even when I was rooting for a field hockey player I could have sworn was Julie and wasn't. My offspring never got mad if I cheered their adversary's goal by accident; they just wanted me physically present for them.
So PJ came home for Steve's birthday and needed to go back to Millersville for a lacrosse game (the team he plays on is doing very well, on its way to a national championship). On an impulse Steve and I decided to drive out and watch him play. It was all so familiar--the cold, the bleachers, the requisite bizarre screaming fan (this guy wore a full yellow bodysuit). Wonder of wonders, I enjoyed myself. College lacrosse is very fast-moving and exciting. PJ was, himself, fast-moving and fun to watch.
Best of all: PJ was genuinely happy we had come.
And I was happy too.