As I sit in the stands I hear the players yelling “over here, over here,” while the parents yell “pass the ball.” At soccer games, there is a lot of tension. Not just between teams but also between players, parents and coaches. In the stands, there is a lot of schism between the two different team’s parents; usually one team’s parents will sit on one side of the field while the other team’s parents sit on the other. Sometimes the parents will get so into the game that they will be flamboyant, by wearing crazy outfits. Some may even become fructuous towards each other.
In most sports, there is always an anathema, the one person who is always ostentatious, loud, obnoxious, yelling “come on son, you’re the best I’ve ever seen, who cares about everyone else.”
The crowd goes wild, Sue the anathema that everyone wants to expunge, son is about to score a goal. He lifts his leg up high behind him getting ready to swing it back and kick that white and black ball into the goal when all of a sudden one of the guys from the other team truncated him and made him fall to the ground. With a big BAM, he hits the floor in tears. The once jaunty crowd goes silent. Sue soon became timorous, and bowed her head in shame. Her son Joe had missed the ball, and had kicked the others players thigh and broke his leg. All his dreams came crushing down on him in his utopia his heaven, the soccer field.