Saturday, February 8, 2014

On Becoming a Lacrosse Mother

Henry is Number 10

My baseball Saturdays have now officially become lacrosse Saturdays.

I watched Henry play two games of lacrosse today in two different locations for a total of three hours game time, 2 hours of pre-game warm-up and another hour of driving. The first game was a high school game, and Reader, it was intense. Henry's team played a high school that is known for its football team (I believe one of the best in the nation?), and a few of the lacrosse players (who also play football) had tattoos. I'm not sure what strange karma I'm acting out by being the decidedly unathletic and disinterested mother to a kid who at one point nearly knocked heads with another over something illegal or another, but I acted nonchalant while I died inside. A fellow parent whom I vaguely remember from flag football days, at least six years ago (when the boys had neither hair on their legs nor tattoos),  as a screaming type of coach-father, nodded at the posturing of the two boys, and when I asked him what the problem was, he said, Testosterone. Good for Henry. I never know what the hell is going on on the field, so I nodded my head,  but in my mind they were roosters with their chests puffed up. Don't worry, though, Reader. I refrained from using my words, at least those words that I am quite skilled at using, and I shed all metaphors and stood up occasionally to shout strong and admonitory verbs. Karma is a bitch.

At the second game, I believe my son was actually thrown out of the game toward the end for yelling something or other at the ref, but how would I know what the true story was as I was finishing another chapter of The Luminaries in my car.


  1. Of course Henry is #10. That is as it should be.

  2. I know baseball is beloved to Henry but I think lacrosse is really badass.

  3. I'll be dead keen to know what you think of The Luminaries when you're done.

    I simply devoured it (ignoring all else) and utterly and completely adored it ... until I didn't.

  4. Thank goodness for sports because...testosterone.
    A gozillion years ago, Henry would have been part of a pack of young men out hunting the wooly mammoth. Which is one of the reasons that we, as a species, survive.
    That's my theory, at least.

  5. From what I hear, lacrosse is a pretty rough-and-tumble sport. I'm no expert, though!

  6. Mother of a lacrosse player…. could never have left the field to read a book in the car…. but then again perhaps I will try it this spring AND summer season ( the indoor box season just ended, yes I know lacrosse)…. Henry will settle out… lot of pressure in high school to be aggressive, plus the rules change in ninth grade, allowing you to be more aggressive.

  7. It took me nearly two full seasons to figure out what was happening out there on the field. Thankfully, my uber-patient youngest, Lola, explained to me over and over again how she played the game. Also thankfully, in the girls leagues, they are forbidden to have body contact with each other until they are in the 7th grade, so that they can protect their slight bodies and fully learn the strategy and nuance of the game. That said, she has a lot more testosterone than most of her fellow players and after the first season, begged us to let her play with the boys so that she could "take someone out." Oy. I do appreciate the game now, though, and enjoy watching it, but she will enter the 7th grade next year, so I may choose to sit in the car and read instead of watching her pummel and get pummeled.

  8. This is one of those sports about which I haven't got the slightest idea. Like rugby, or American football. Baseball, however? Now, we're talking! :-) Glad you enjoyed your book.

    Greetings from London.

  9. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I thank the good Lord that my children inherited my lack of athletic ability and interest.



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