Soccer didn’t suck
I don’t like soccer, so when Elysha proposed that we purchase tickets to the US women’s soccer team’s match versus Mexico, I wanted to say, “No, thank you. That sounds awful.”
But instead, I said, “If the kids want to go, I’ll go.”
Clara immediately said yes. Apparently she loves the US women’s soccer team, knows the names of most of the players, and can spout off many of their personal biographies.
Who knew?
Charlie said no which sent my heart soaring, but a few seconds later, he reconsidered and agreed to go.
So much for my soaring heart. I was now stuck going to a soccer game on a perfectly lovely summer night that we could’ve spent doing something far more entertaining.
Still, I said nothing. Just smiled and agreed to go.
I also remained silent during the hour we waited in traffic to finally make it to the stadium. I couldn’t believe it. All these people wanted to watch soccer?
I remained silent when I told my family to hop out of the car and walk to the stadium, leaving me in line for another 25 minutes before I could finally park thanks to Rentschler Field’s abysmal infrastructure.
When I finally made it to my seat, I had missed the first 20 minutes of the game. The US women were already leading Mexico 2-0. I sat down beside Clara and proceeded to have a fantastic time.
I couldn’t believe it.
While I’m still not a fan of soccer, I discovered that watching live soccer played well can be exceptionally entertaining. Watching my children do “The Wave” for the first time in their lives was joyous. Listening to Clara call down to Alex Morgan as she warmed up on the sidelines made my heart soar. Erupting into cheers with 20,000 other screaming fans on goals 3 and 4 was both surprising and inspiring.
I also got to enjoy the moment in the line for slushies when Charlie insisted that I confirm with the cashier that this was the line for regular slushies and not the alcoholic slushies adjacent to us.
“Charlie, I know this is the line for regular slushies. Don’t you trust me?”
“Not really,” Charlie said. “You do some crazy things.”
The woman in front of us erupted in laughter.
I did not.
Despite Charlie’s lack of confidence in his father, it was a glorious evening at Rentschler Field. We left the game about ten minutes early and were back in Newington less than 20 minutes later.
Nothing better than effecting a speedy escape from a stadium parking lot.
What I’ve learned over the years spent with Elysha is to say nothing when she proposes something that sounds decidedly unappealing to me. Rather than arguing against it, pointing out its potential pitfalls, and finding reasons to complain, I remain silent and hopeful because almost always, Elysha is right about these things.
I’ve enjoyed far more surprisingly joyous experiences thanks to Elysha than I can count.
Including, remarkably, a soccer game.
