Winners One And All

This spring is the final season for the Palominos, as the girls are reaching the age where recreational soccer ends and club soccer begins. So for this close-knit team, which has never had a winning season, this is their last and only chance for that experience. By the fall, most of the players will have graduated from Middle School and gone on to various high schools. Before he became head coach last fall, Aidan inherited a team with an overall record of 8-37-2 over six seasons.

They had their best season to date last fall, when they finished 4-5, so the kids are hoping that this spring might be even better. So far, so good. They won their first two games before facing a tough opponent today in the late afternoon heat at Crocker-Amazon. The first photo above was from last night's practice, as their young coach was getting them prepared for today's game. The second photo was just before today's game started. Four girls did not show up, with conflicts of one sort or another, but those who did played short-handed the entire game with great spirit. As Aidan told them at halftime, they were outplaying the other team, even though they were behind, 0-1. In the second half, he reminded them, they would be playing into the wind, and he adjusted the lineup and their strategy as a result. It all seemed to amount to nada when a bad bounce caused one of the Palominos' defenders to score an unintentional goal for the other team. Now it was 0-2 and it stayed that way until late in the game. Somehow, however, these players didn't give up; they rallied. The fought for ball after ball and won more of those battles than they lost. They moved the ball up the pitch against the wind and in the last five minutes or so, scored a goal. Now it was 1-2. Their intensity only increased after that and with perhaps three minutes left, they tied the game on a PK. In the final minute they almost scored the winner, but when it was over, the 2-2 tie felt very much like a victory. They are now 2-0-1 this season with three games left and an excellent chance at a winning season. And, in the "Aidan Era," they are now 6-5-1. -30-

Hide 'n Seek

Increasingly, I'm realizing that a day spent with grandchildren can compensate as a counterweight against a lot of the other BS in life, as we age. They know nothing of financial or job pressures, taxes, audits, climate change, or politics and they could care less. They notice hummingbirds, raccoon tracks, edible plants in the garden, and cloud formations.

They're constantly learning new things and are wired to do so. Unlike all too many of us adults, they do not shrink from challenges; they embrace them. They are always trying out something new, pushing themselves to exceed the limits, and they get bruised up in the process. I want to be more like my grandchildren, going forward. I'd also forgotten what a thrill it is to play hide 'n seek, the ultimate game of chase and discovery. Just waiting to be found creates a state of anxiety and anticipation that has few parallels in our comparatively boring adult lives. -30-

Prom Night Aftermath

Note: I am sorry for the way this blog is displaying. Blogger has changed ts interface and has some issues to work out, obviously. Hopefully, my messages will still come through, despite the run-on appearance, over which I have no control.

For his first prom, my 17-year-old rented the traditional tuxedo after playing soccer far south of here yesterday. Like all parents, I'm sure, I was both excited and worried for him. Before seeing him off, I stuffed some money in his pocket, in case he needed a taxi home sometime during the long night ahead. Today, at lunch with him and his slightly younger brother (a student of the future), he described the evening. As often is the case with teens around here, their "after-prom" party in a hotel room was shut down quickly by the front desk, as was the next one, and so on. Luckily, he'd kept his cab money and at around 4 am, he made his way home to his Mom's. Around these parts, proms seem to be losing their luster, or maybe it's been that way for a while. I have to admit I wouldn't know the historical context, never having attended one. But as I told him, I was glad he went. It's better to experience these things than sit them out. "I think I'll sit mine out," said the younger brother. "You're way too much like me," I replied. -30-

Carry On

In movies, at least in Hollywood movies, there are happy endings. People overcome the odds and find a way to triumph. Some of these stories are said to be based on real life, although most of the time, if you check the record, a certain romanticizing has occurred, as all of my friends from other parts of the world point out. By contrast, in real life even here in America, the odds almost always overcome us mere people, and there is nothing romantic about that. People are therefore allowed to become bitter when life turns unfair. Cynics and realists have always held that life is unfair, i.e., 'get used to it.' I've always had trouble getting used to it, maybe because I come from modest circumstances, and therefore bought the American myth without enough critical thinking, even though I was a rebel. I've always held on to hope and romance as the salvation for a life lived as fairly and honestly as possible. But maybe the cynics are right; maybe there will be no fairness, no justice at the end, just stacked odds against people like me. Just, let us say, a big, brutal, bloated government that kicks you when you are down. *** The envelope with my name on it arrived from the IRS Saturday. Suddenly the warm air that felt so wonderful earlier became stifling and I started to have trouble breathing. I took an innocent flower pot off my back deck and smashed it on the cement below, the erstwhile basketball court where we never play any longer. I probably will break other innocent things before this is over. Too many problems plague this place. There was no joy left here today. As I looked at the hated agency's demands for records used for my 2009 tax return, now officially being audited, I remembered coming home from a business trip that summer to discover the flood in my laundry room. I blogged about it here; someone must remember. I had to discard boxes of files, including some of the receipts now being demanded, thus life started feeling doubly, triply unfair today. Why these unending assaults? How will I muster the energy to resist further? What inner fight remains? It was a gut check. Any independent business person using Schedule C knows how hard it is to comply with the government's complicated rules about how to report your income and expenses. Plus, the tinier your business is, and mine is miniscule, the more ridiculous it becomes trying to comply. The truth is I honestly reported every number, but the equal truth is I don't know whether I can prove that this long afterwards. The reason is not just the flood, it is the limitations of space and time. Given my age and situation, I have been aggressively throwing away my past in recent years. Some of the boxes of papers I threw away could help me now, but at the time I thought they were meaningless. But by far my biggest liability in this battle will be the loneliness of it all. I will have to fight this battle all on my own, day after day, opening up file after file throughout the house, seeking lost pieces of paper, lost statements, lost receipts, not knowing whether they ever will be found. No one will help me keep track and I will get confused, and very sad. Without a partner or friend to help me cope, the days ahead feel like Death Valley stretching out, cracked, parched, with no relief in sight. Under the pressure of an Orwellian deadline, I already know what lies ahead. I will not allow myself to go out for a walk, eat, or listen to music. I'll lose more weight, not necessarily a bad thing, but I've already lost ten pounds the past month under other pressures, fighting other audits and insults. All this gruesome work will be conducted in silence, such as in war. My smiles, already too rare, will disappear. Who can smile when their government has invaded their dreams for a safe and secure future, implicitly accusing them of improprieties that, even if true (which they are not) would not amount to a trillionth of a trillionth of a percent of the crimes committed but never prosecuted by Wall Street's billionaires. It's at times like these that I need a friend. Without a friend, I need music. Carry on.