This past weekend at The Good One’s soccer game I had the distinct pleasure of sitting in front of a woman who had a megaphone surgically implanted into her throat. It’s the only explanation for the auditory waterboarding I was forced to suffer.
My son’s team isn’t really all that good. I’d say they are mediocre with a few above-average players. Their problem is that all of the offensive players want to be the one to score the goal, so they don’t pass. This makes us very easy to beat.
We were playing against a team that knew how to play as a team, plus they had a child who was built like a stick bug and was incredibly fast. Stick Bug Boy also liked to push our players in their backs, but the senile old ref, who I think might have been Methuselah, was oblivious to these offenses.
Seriously, the ref had to be at least a thousand years old. (Senile old men, even Biblical ones, shouldn’t be permitted to ref soccer. They tire entirely too easily and really aren’t able to keep up with 16 Gatorade-fueled 8-year-olds, especially while wearing desert sandals.) Really, we still wouldn’t have won even if the ref hadn’t had quadruple-focals on, but it would have been nice to have some of that stuff caught.
Anyway, we were getting the ever-loving tar beat out of us by this team of stick bugs.
The majority of the parents watching these games are very laid back. We’d all like to win, we cheer, but we’re not in despair if we lose. For our team, this is a good thing because we lose all the time. We are undefeated in our defeat.
And most of the time the parents on the other team are also relatively laid back. You might have an errant parent or two who takes a little too much joy in obliterating an obviously inferior team, but they don’t usually bother me either.
However, this week, I sat in front of a woman who I wanted to fist fight. It wasn’t even so much that she was cheering for the other team, and doing so incredibly loudly, but it was that she would never SHUT THE HELL UP! (Please excuse my language. We both know that I swear. I promise to keep it very PG rated and only use swear words that appear in the Bible. This means I can use “ass” and “hell.” Some translations say “lake of fire” but I don’t think that would make sense in this situation.)
This woman’s son actually used to be on the same team as The Good One. I remembered despising her then, too. How can you not, really? She’s very detestable.
Once she yelled at The Good One for not squarely kicking a ball. I contemplated challenging her to a dance-off. (No, not really. Maybe a bake-off. I bake a mean peanut butter cup cupcake.) And at one game, this mother was so horribly loud and offensive, screaming derogatory remarks at the young girl who was reffing, that I went and apologized to the ref after the game.
Well, on Saturday, Megaphone Mouth sat behind us and literally made my ears bleed. (Yes, my ears bleed a lot. I realize that. I apparently have very vascular ears. Shut up. It’s a thing.)
She’d yell at her team. She’d yell at our team. She’d yell at Methuselah, who obviously didn’t hear her because his hearing aids are from Bible times and were virtually just funnels inserted into his ears. At one point I think Megaphone Mouth even started yelling about snacks.
She yelled things to her son like, “I WANT YOU TO SCORE A GOAL!!!” (Trust me when I say that the all caps are warranted.) And she’d scream it 20 times in a row.
First, Megaphone Mouth, he really did hear you the first 5 times. Every child on the field heard you. Methuselah might have even heard you. It’s hard to tell since his face is covered in a beard that hides all of his facial expressions.
Also, does your son have short-term memory loss? Are you concerned that he’ll forget from moment to moment that you want him to score a goal? Are you worried that he’s running around on the field thinking to himself, “What am I doing out here? What is this game? Why are they kicking that basketball? Is that Moses? Dear Lord, I’m in heaven. This heaven is terrible. And why does God keep yelling at me? I wasn’t expecting God to be a violently loud woman.”
The fact that Megaphone Mom’s team won is further proof to me that God doesn’t care about sports competitions, even when they are being reffed by Biblical characters. If He did care, then our team would have won; the stick bugs would have lost; Stick Bug Boy would have been shoved in the back a time or two, perhaps had his stick leg swept out from under him and snapped in half. (No, I’m kidding. I would never wish for a child to have his leg broken so that we could win a game. Maybe get hit in the nose with a ball. Or kicked by a cleat in the friendlies. I would have taken either of those.)
Also, if God cared about sports, He would have appeared to Megaphone Mouth in the form of a glowing megaphone and told her to sit her donkey down and shut the lake of fire up (See, I told you it doesn’t make sense.) so He could concentrate on the game to decide if Methuselah is good enough to referee soccer games in heaven.
Psst, God. He isn’t.