That Big Soccer Game
Sandra Epperson

Running, kicking, passing, and scrimmaging, the boys were finally ready for their first soccer game of the season. Coaches handed out shirts. Parents bought cleats and socks. They had all practiced their positions. Each boy knew where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do. The referee, wearing his bright yellow shirt with whistle at the ready, checked with both coaches. He also checked for shin guards and the right kind of cleats. The boys anxiously awaited the starting whistle.

The whistle blew. The ball was kicked. The game was on. Boys ran all over the field kicking the soccer ball. Parents coached from the sidelines. Coaches coached from the sidelines, too. Back and forth, the ball bounced and rolled as the boys kicked and ran. A few goals were scored more by chance than skill.

At half time, parents swarmed the kids with water and wedges of oranges. Coaches gave tips to the boys. They cheered the teams on, encouraging the excellent effort the boys were putting forth. Announcing the start of the second half, the referee blew the whistle. Trotting out to their positions, the boys readied themselves for the second halfís action. They ran and ran chasing the ball and each other. A new intensity surged in the boys. They ran faster and kicked harder vying for the ball. Sprinting down the field as fast as their legs would take them, the boys worked hard to keep control of the ball. Passing and jockeying for position, the boys played on.

Suddenly, all play stopped.

ìHey, a ladybug!î one of the six year olds on the field shouted. Soccer abandoned, both teams stopped, looked down, then swarmed over to see this wonderful bit of nature.

As one of the boys gently allowed the ladybug to crawl on his finger, the coaches regrouped the teams. Once the ladybug was safely relocated out of bounds, the game resumed. Final score: Ladybug 1 Soccer 0.