Autumn: A Backdrop to Soccer

We are in the throes of soccer season at our house. Water bottles and athletic bags packed with cleats and shin guards, under armor and club sweat shirts wait at the back door each day for our daily trip to John B. Lewis Soccer Fields for one or another’s practice. Luckily, as autumn breezes in, the fields are privy to a glorious backdrop of gentle slopes that boast yellows and reds amid deep greens. The hours spent waiting and watching allow me the pleasure of observing the setting sun’s playful changes to the trees creating its own artwork of varying impressions of the same setting by manipulating the light.

Not all of the days unfold as the blissful picturesque tokens of autumn and Rem and I (and usually one sister) spend endless minutes that spill into hours sitting in the van. Rem traces racing raindrops down the windows with his fingers. Smudges will show up later, in the glint of the sun, as varying streaks in the lower halves of most of the van’s windows. He jumps from seat to seat and occasionally has to be rescued from the back of the van when he overzealously catapults himself over the back seat. I read books and hope for a parent to wander by, seeking company to help pass the time more quickly.

This week, however, boasts quintessential fall days complete with great dips in temperature at night to warm, sunlit afternoons. The pleasant practices encouraged our spontaneous trek back to the soccer fields last night to cheer Craig along during his over-40 game under the newly lit fields. Lise found a friend to kick around with at an empty goal while Miren quietly critiqued the play on the field as we snuggled under a blanket. Rem ran around us in circles stopping long enough to declare his Papa “one of the boys”. He then played with the blue Ikea bag that held our blankets and hats, hopping around like he was in a sack race, sitting in a “bowl of soup” and then running with the bag over his head, much of it dragging across the pitch as he squealed with delight.

Rem became infatuated with the referees at Miren’s last soccer game, especially with the line judge. He found Lise’s discarded bandana near our chairs and followed the line judge’s movements along our side of the field. He whipped the bandana to his right and then ran along the line near where the young man stood. Someone located a stick and tied the bandana to it so that the bandana more closely resembled the flag. Thrilled, Rem even began calling off-sides.

“What are you doing, Rem?” amused parents asked. Rem turned to them with an aggravated look.

“I’m not Rem. I’m the man!” His voice was as severe as his face. He turned back to the game.

Luckily, the line judge thought Rem’s actions funny and found us after the game to show Rem the real flag and let him play with it. For once, Craig and I could easily keep an eye on Rem and enjoy Miren’s game. I’m thinking of buying him a brightly colored striped shirt so that I can tell him that he’s the ref for the rest of the season.