I've heard the saying that every smile is a prayer. I've smiled so many times this week remembering our Sunday morning soccer game.
The Crimson Tide Under-19 recreational soccer team had an 8:00 a.m. game. High school boys don't really relish seeing eight a.m. on Sundays. You know none of them curtailed their social life in order to be well-rested!
When we got out to the fields, some parents had set up a card table with tablecloth, and loaded it with kolaches, donuts, and orange juice. The parental cheering section got to munch and visit before the game. It was our first time wearing lightweight jackets! Hot air balloons were landing nearby. The breeze was lovely. Two fields over the cricket teams were playing their mysterious game wearing their perfectly white outfits, lending a tea-and-crumpets air of British colonial orderliness to the gorgeous morning.
The sweaty players had their turn devouring goodies after the game, very relaxed after their intense play, sharing jokes, compliments, and respectful post-game analyses. "Coach, could you get us some more eight o'clock games?" "You 'spose we could have brunch after our ten o'clocks?" Then with many thanks, they were off to do body work on their cars, talk about sub-woofers, take 45-minute showers, put off homework, and call girlfriends. Glistening, busy scarab beetles with cell phones!
Sometimes you think there could be nothing sweeter than first grade soccer guys running through the arch of parents' arms to get to the ice chest of juice boxes. Their shinpads and socks reach all the way up into their shorts. They've been swarming on the field, picking dandelions, and entangling themselves in the nets. Take lots of photos, but don't be sad. It just gets better and better.
And in glorious technicolor panivision Gordon McCrae is singing, "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning".
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