First soccer game of the year

Or Why I Am Almost Glad My Daughter Got Hit In The Face With A Soccer Ball

Saturday was the first game day for Upward Soccer. Big Sister "played" with the three-year-old team last year, but this is her first year for weeknight practices and "real" games against another team. Judging by these first photos, you might think she is a serious soccer player:




You would be wrong.


She had a lot of fans though. Nana & Papa are in town, so they came to cheer.


Little Sister had especially high expectations. She was a demanding fan...


...until she got sleepy and snuggly.


Big Sister spent most of the game simply running with the pack of kids who were going after the ball. There were some moments when she seemed to actually want to go for the ball, and a few times she got to do a corner kick or dribble down the field (she is a pretty good dribbler). But there were also a few times when she seemed to be completely uninterested.

And then she got nailed.

Let me be clear about this. My subtitle above does not mean that I found any sort of glee in seeing my daughter take a soccer ball in the mouth. For one thing, I was quite concerned. For another, I didn't actually see it. I was probably talking to my parents, or gawking at how much bigger the other kids were, or trying to figure out the name of one particular little girl boy on our team. (Not kidding- I thought he was a little girl until several hours later when the hubs told me otherwise!)

So, when it happened I rushed over and checked out my wounded player. She was fine- just shaken up and completely horrified at what had just happened, as well as at the idea of returning to the game. Nana & I both comforted her for a minute.

Then, I remembered a story about my roommate's sister and the time she fell off of her horse. Her mom made her take the horse back to the barn, put up the saddle, and do whatever else was needed to finish her ride, before they took her to the doctor. She had a broken arm, but her mom (a nurse, by the way) knew that if she didn't finish that ride, she would never get back on a horse again.

So, I asked our big girl to try to catch her breath and dry her tears. I took her back to the sideline and told her daddy that I wanted her to go back in the game as soon as they were ready. The tears came again, and I felt horrible as he led her by the hand onto the field. Was I doing the right thing?

I think so. After a few minutes, she was fine. She was a maybe a teensy bit more concerned about getting injured, but she was still playing! At the end of the game, she earned the gold star for perseverance, or as she said, "because I was tough!"

So, am I glad that she got hurt? Of course not. But am I glad that she was able to see that she is strong enough to overcome a soccer ball to the face? Absolutely. Am I glad that she kept playing, even when she had every reason to turn in those too-cute cleats? Definitely. I hope that she develops a tenacity and determination to keep going when the going gets tough- something I know I lack all too often.

And besides, it was nothing a little snack and juice box couldn't fix.


See? A happy tough little girl.