Game Won

Danny had a soccer game on Saturday. It was game one. And his team won. Well, there was no official score keeping but those of us with our eyes on Danny and his purple-shirted four-year-old friends happened to notice that his team scored three times while the other team didn't seem to score at all. It doesn't matter all that much who won -- although we did let Danny know his team was victorious: We needed something to get him back on the field next week -- he's not sure he loves soccer all that much -- and this seemed to motivate him a bit.

I'm no athlete myself. I gave sports a try a few times in junior high school -- basketball and softball were my two attempts -- but really, organized sports just didn't do a thing for me. They might not do anything for Danny either. But I must say it was quite exhilarating watching my little tike run around that soccer field this past weekend. Seeing him race around with his teammates, not even sure which goal belonged to him, admiring him in his knee-length team shirt with a gigantic number 10 on the back, and spotting him kick that size three ball in his size 11 cleats just warmed my heart.

Maybe I'm living vicariously through my mini soccer guy, feeling the thrill of what I never felt firsthand all those years ago when I threw my hat in the sports ring and promptly pulled it back out. I'm just not your average female athlete. I'm simply a happy bystander. A spirited cheerleader. A proud mom.

Go Danny!