The soccer season ended for Samson and his teammates on Friday. I can't tell you how glad I am that we signed him up.
He's probably not in any danger of some day playing in the World Cup (see above sequence; #5, that's my boy), but when we arrived at the field on Friday night, he hopped right into the game (already in progress) and proceeded to clear the ball up the field.
Of course, he then stopped to talk to one of his friends, but I was thrilled to see him make solid contact with the ball. And in the right direction. Most importantly: He was having fun.
It has been a great six weeks: a fun way to start the weekend, and I don't know how many more years we'll be able to go before having his games infringed on by the vicarious living crowd [there were a few even at this level, but they tended to congregate closer to the sidelines].
It has been a great six weeks: a fun way to start the weekend, and I don't know how many more years we'll be able to go before having his games infringed on by the vicarious living crowd [there were a few even at this level, but they tended to congregate closer to the sidelines].
Also, and this may mark me as a philistine in terms of the "beautiful game," but any contest that ends not on penalty kicks but when the Papa John's delivery guy arrives is OK in my book.
Seriously, he came out to midfield, the game was called, and the handshake line speedily assembled. It was time for pizza and trophies.
By the way, if you want to see the future of soccer, look no further:
Seriously, she took this kid's ball. Kicked it from in between his feet, picked it up, and walked away. Long live sport.
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