Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…
So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)
There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.
We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.
Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?
We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.
And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)
There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.
I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.
I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.
If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.