The breakfast of champions is not cereal,
it’s the opposition.
Yesterday was the last day of this year’s soccer season. Due to a freak snow last weekend, we had to make up missed games, so Cass played a doubleheader (as did Jake. It was a long, cold day on the fields).
The first game she played offense, ran hard. The other team was a well-oiled machine and they fell in the end, something like 3-1. Nobody minded. It’s impressive to watch really talented kids at this age, even when it’s your team’s collective butt they’re whooping.
The second game she played defense. It’s not her favorite thing to do and she wasn’t really happy about it, especially since it was windy and cold and she wasn’t running around much. She took it out on the ball, charging it angrily every time it came anywhere near the net, disgruntled sneer on her face.
As one kid zigged and zagged his way down the field for about the dozenth time to the enthusiastic cheers of his family, only to have Cass decisively kick it out of bounds again, his mom stomped her foot and howled, “Gawd! I hate that little girl!”
It was a funny moment and a couple of people who know me kind of snuck glances to see if I was going to say anything. I didn’t, but if I were going to I simply would have thanked her.
Frankly, I don’t know that I’ve ever been more proud.
I hope she forever pisses people off with her stoic awesomeness.