It was a day spent crisscrossing the city and the Bay Bridge in my car; standing in the shade (when possible) or enduring sunburn, and ultimately windburn, on the sidelines of two soccer fields in The Mission.
The morning game involved the little guys.
This is the last season for their team as co-ed. Although they are only 8 or 9, the time has come to split them up by gender. My daughter, for one, is sad about this, as she reallly likes the boys on her team.
It was a great soccer game, with only one goal.
At this age, they've mastered defense over offense.
They have not yet grown as tall as their coaches.
In the end, our guys were the winners, 1-0.
***
At the other end of the daylight, the big guys played in the late afternoon, as the first sharp breeze in days rushed in from the East, heralding the monster white wall of fog that would surely be close behind.
By this time of day, even the irrepressible twins were slowing down.
This would prove to be a rough game. It's the last season for their team, too. Those born before a certain date are off to high school and new teams. The younger kids, including mine, will join up with the holdovers of another such team.
In this game, my son took a point-blank blast in the face that could easily have broken his nose, except that he has the reflexes of a cat, and turned his head at the last micro-second. His eye swelled shut for a while, and he looked a bit dazed, but he kept playing.
The game was a mis-match, against an older, bigger team that normally plays in a different division.
Every hour and a half, the pitch changes hands -- girls teams, boys teams, on and on.
After dinner, I tried but was too tired to post anything. Even now, mid-day Sunday, the usual torrent of words eludes me. I'm just too tired from my weekend duties...
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