Just when I was getting used to having dinner and evenings with Peter, he has to go and tell me that soccer try-outs are upon us. Not only that, but there’s even a couple of brand new joint-teams – some Mississippi United something or other, linking Carleton Place and Almonte in soccer harmony. Whatever, the brat still has my husband and won’t give him back! If you see him, he’s the one with the infectious laugh, the great big dimples and kind brown eyes. He’ll also be the one with the clipboard, stop watch, lots of balls and kids running everywhere around him.
Wait, that last part describes most of the male population as well as a good portion of the female constituency at this time of year.
You all know I tried. I tried to get involved with soccer. I tried to build an unhealthy obsession with David Beckham or Cristiano Ronaldo. Pictures presented for your consideration:
Seriously, if a girl can’t get excited over these two kicking at a ball, then it’s safe to say that there is not a love of soccer in her blood. But if you want to keep thrusting full action shots of Renaldo and Beckham my way, I’ll keep trying to love them, er, I mean – soccer… really.
This soccer mistress is a demanding wench. There’s not much she can ask for that Peter, and many others in our Lanark County, won’t jump up to answer. We’re back to the constant phone calls, the endless e-mails and the meetings that happen every Saturday morning. Sigh. I can’t tell you the last time I rolled over on a Saturday morning and didn’t hug a pillow instead of a warm body.
Nobody should get the wrong idea that I don’t have my own interests to delve into. That’s far from the case. I will be busy selling Gold Canyon candles, hanging out with the girl cult and wondering when I can tag along with my friends as they go up to their cottages. I know my summer will be full, and I will occasionally be able to hang out with that guy I married.
Maybe those of us who are not soccer people should start a support group. We can all get together and trade pictures of our husbands, wives and children, you know; those that we love and never get to spend a full season with.
Maybe we can start our own sport that takes up the other seasons when soccer isn’t….oh…wait. Soccer now runs four seasons a year, because apparently there is no time that is not acceptable to play soccer.
Well, I guess that settles it then. I’ll start a missing persons call centre for sightings of soccer playing loved ones. People will be able to call in and give details of a last sighting. I can put some bloodhounds on the trail; maybe find one or two soccer fiends to return them to their families for a meal or something.
