Saturday, August 16, 2014

A saint in a soccer jersey

When August comes every year, the time comes for new school shoes, pencils, paper...and cleats. I know everyone is sick of hearing about our family and its life on the soccer field, but it is what it is. The youngers have both expressed a need for new rompers and the boy has been all but stuffing his feet into too small cleats all summer. So we went to The Soccer Post. They are our go to place for all things to do with the beautiful game. G had recently been told by someone, I'm not sure who, that she needed to get better cleats that were designed for a keeper. Whilst this might be true for someone who gets a FIFA paycheck, I don't think a 10 year old has any business being in $150 cleats unless their last name in Messi and they are moved at the expense of and paid by another country. The boy was easy enough and got fitted with black cleats with a white swoosh and NIKE on them. He was off to kick the ball in the store goal and have some fun. When G got up there, we explained her position and the situation...praying that our guy would read us loud and clear and steer her towards a more reasonable pair. Let me get one thing straight: Even if he thought she needed $150 cleats, it was not going to happen. At least not until she paid for them herself. He pointed out three pairs he felt appropriate for her position and level of play. She picked a fourth pair that was $30 dollars more. I made a little croaking sound from choking on my gum. He said, "We don't have that in your size. Sorry!". Then he mouthed to me, "Thank G-d!". We smiled and bonded a little bit. I then asked him if he preferred to be paid for his genius in cash or baked goods. He was fine with either. In the end, she found a pair of bright green cleats that will blind most opponents who come close. They are pretty snazzy...and affordable.

Bedtime now. Tomorrow is a work day and a late afternoon game a couple cities away. Fun, fun, fun.

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