My littlest son is playing flag football. Yesterday was his very first game and day of practice. The parents, especially the dads, are all gung ho about seeing their little 4 and 5 year old tigers hit the field. Most of the parents have their boys really psyched up for this. Well, we did have one mom there without a partner whose son seemed too terrified to even look at the field as he sat clinging to his mother's calves. Meanwhile, the opposing red team has these giant boys that line up and actually grimmace and growl at our young-looking team during the -what do they call it? - oh yeah, the snap.So, I overheard a couple of dad's talking in that guy way that men do. "Blah, blah.. yeah, well over here it's impossible not to know the game well. All you have to do is grow up here and it's a given... yadda, yadda, mumble." The context was that the assistant coach is Bahamian and is struggling to learn the rules of the game so that he can actually assist the coach.
I was just walking by and I had to laugh. My son knows NOTHING about football. I think this
guy would've been willing to accuse my husband and me of child abuse had he known that. We don't even know for sure that he would have identified a football correctly before that morning. And there he was... on the field... in his yellow shirt chewing on the yellow flags hanging from his belt. What else are they for?The good news is that he actually did run with the ball the one time they handed it off to him. The bad news is it was in the wrong direction until he heard all the yelling. Of course, then there was the Bahamian coach's son. He was handed the ball, the red team started charging toward him, and he does the most obvious thing to him... his face morphs into a look of sheer terror, he hurls the ball AT the red team, and turns tail and hauls hiney!!
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