Once upon a time on a soccer field far, far away, or really, just in the center of town on an abandoned psychiatric hospital, a tired, been-there-done-that mom sat behind the soccer goal, underneath the giant pines, with an iced tea and book, and didn’t watch her kid play. She may have glanced, but she certainly didn’t know the score, or where her kid was on the field. Or if
Soccer Smackdown: parents brawl at youth game
I missed the whole thing. I stayed home to make sure teenagers didn’t have sex on my couch, while rather attractive husband took Boy to the soccer tournament 4 hours away where these extraordinary, highly-scouted 12 year old phenoms need to travel to find any competition worth playing. (That’s the official statement. My version is we get our ass kicked by the locals, so must drive far to end the