We got second place in this weekend's soccer tournament. It was so
much fun - especially on Saturday when we came out on top at both games. In
fact, it was so exciting to see my two babies play forward together that as
Evan made a pass to Keagan, and Keagan took a shot on the goal, I was jumping
up and down and screaming with anticipation. I might have been shouting
"SHOOOT!!!" I might have been shouting, "Sweet Baby Jesus let
that ball go in!!!!" Because it is the holiday season, my prayers and the
birth of Christ could have mingled together in my head to form some new plea of
divine intervention. I really can't remember. But I do know that I was not the
mother who shouted to her son, "Push his a$$!!!" That was the
opposing team's loud, vocal mom, and as loud as I might be, that type of
language has never crossed my lips. My mind maybe. My lips no.
But here I was on the sidelines. The ball was moving in slow
motion. I was cheering. I was jumping. I took one giant leap, as if I were
going for the ball myself, and I felt it pop. My right calf. My right calf
popped. I calmly took a seat and decided to stretch it out, but I couldn't. I
couldn't even walk up the sideline to watch the corner kick that resulted in
Keagan's missed shot.
I continued to cheer when Evan stopped a million shots on the
goal, though, and I continued to jump up and down when Evan beat the other team
to the ball. This time, though, it was on just one foot. After the first game,
I became quite proficient at the one legged cheer.
Evan thought it was pretty cool that I had a similar injury to Miles Austin. He
asked me to explain how it felt. He wanted every detail; I think because he
doubted the severity of his favorite player's injury. However, I spent Saturday
night scooting around the floor of the house on my butt, that's how painful it
was, and he quickly understood a pop in the calf is a serious injury.
Especially when it impacts the meal you are served for dinner.
The boys' coach has decided all parents will participate in the team's pre-game
stretches and warm up so that further injuries to spectators on the sidelines
will be eliminated. I am expected to lead the first lap around the complex as
soon as I can walk again. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to admit
to my co-workers that I tore my calf muscle cheering for my sons on the
sidelines of the soccer field? I had to tell the truth because no one believed
my original story: "I was just standing on the sidelines, took a step, and
then I felt it pop."