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Grandmother of the Goalie

For fourteen years, I played the most difficult position on the soccer field, i.e., mother of the goalie.  Since both Seth and Jeremy were goalies, I often had to worry through two games a week.  Most of the time, all ended well and very muddy soccer uniforms were the only bad aftereffects. 

There was the time, however, when Seth’s head collided with the goal post while he was trying to make a save. He left the field in an ambulance with his anxious parents following him to the hospital. In the end, he was OK, but it was a stressful few hours.

So you can imagine my emotions watching my almost-nine year old grandson Leo take his place in the goal last weekend. This is the first year that Leo’s team played real games with referees and strict rules (although not all off-sides were called) and the first year that they looked like a team and not eleven individuals kicking a ball around a field.

It was a beautiful fall afternoon on the soccer field in Maryland. Leo played well, and although he let in a goal that maybe he should have stopped, the game ended in a tie.  I had a great time. Grandmother of the goalie is not the same. 

Thank goodness.


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