Monday, 9 March 2015

My Hero.

Today was the second last football (soccer) match of the season and we played 25 miles away from home. In the course of this season we have gone from unplaced to second in the division. A win today meant we would be going up into Division One. Our lads played strong from the start. They had fire in their bellies and kicked hard.
I am the shouty parent on the sideline I confess. I am especially shouty at the defence because that is where the Boychild plays and I get to holler all sorts of advice to him that probably runs contrary to what his coach has told him because I have absolutely no understanding of the rules. However as a shouty parent I am in the 'Good Guys' camp because I only shout out good and positive comments and I clap the opposition goals and good plays. But my voice is loud and I don't pause for breath very much (yes you all probably would hate to be on the sidelines with me).
We gave one of the lads a lift today. I have known this boy since he was 18 months old. He is ... ummm... a one off. He feels things deeply, is fiercely competitive and has very little fear. He is a whirling dervish powered by a Category Four cyclone. He plays like a really really angry terrier in full chase mode.
He had a rough first half as he bounced an own goal into the net but full credit to him he pulled it together, dashed away the tears no one was supposed to see and got his head back in the game. The opposition were a physical team. A big physical team. I disagree with the base defensive strategy of our coach and spent a lot of this afternoon's match shouting at our lads to push forward, be a bit more aggressive in their defence. It didn't work. Despite my (and lots of the other parents') vocal encouragement the result was 2-1. Truth be told we were swizzed because one of their goals was from a free kick that shouldn't have been awarded.
As we always do the Boychild and I had a post-match post-mortem on the way home. My cyclonic dervish friend joined in. He asked what I had thought when the other team were rude about me being the shouty parent. When I said I hadn't heard it he told me it was when he got pulled aside by the referee and told to adjust his attitude. I think the exact words were "Even if he commits the foul if you get up and punch him then it goes against you." Apparently the boy on the other team had been mouthing off at my vocal support for my Hilltop team and Sir Cyclone of Dervish came to my aid. As his Mum told me later 'He was funny-I quizzed him when I saw your lovely post on the Hilltop Team Facebook page and he explained that he'd never stand for "some stupid kid bad mouthing Trashy". He's your #1 fan!!! '

He might be only five foot four but my hero is a giant to me.


  1. Good on him!
    (Though... hang on... If he's 'only' 5 foot 4 he's already taller than me!)

  2. Good on him. I'm the shout parent too but always encouraging

  3. Gosh he has grown up. What a fabulous boy!

    1. He isn't the Boychild Blossom but Sir Dervish of Cyclone is a indeed a fabulous boy. I don't think the Boychild would stand up if some kid was grumbling about me being shouty. More likely to roll his eyes and nod in agreement

    2. Awwww, what a sweetheart! It sounds like these boys have a great group of Mums to support them too!!! XO

  4. Always good to know that someone is on your side. When it's a whirling dervish powered by a Category Four cyclone, well, all the better!