Point It Like Beckham

Yesterday was Ana's first soccer experience - practice and game. We joined a great little organization.

Our list of "greats":

1. The practice and game are back to back so there's not too much of a commitment.
2. Said practice and game take place in the afternoon and do not require dragging our sorry rears anywhere at 8:00 a.m.
3. The season only lasts for 8 weeks, so the torture is not too prolonged if it doesn't work out.

Ana's list of "greats""

1. There are snacks.
2. You get new shoes.
3. You get a jersey.
4. There is a trophy at the end.
5. There are snacks.

Perhaps the first clue that we should have practiced with her a bit came during the shoe buying outing. She saw a soccer ball in the shoe store, picked it up, threw it at me, and said, "Mom! We're playing soccer. Why didn't you catch it? Watch me catch it!" Yet still we did nothing...

At practice, our girl was FAST. She is a head above the rest of the team and her long legs get her down the field in no time flat. She would be an enormous asset if she only knew what she were doing. Or had any desire to do it.

Judging by her body language, soccer seems to embarrass Ana to no end. She would run down the field, slowing up only when she reached the rest of the pack and could blend in. She would then do various grimaces and slapping of her hand on her forehead when someone would miss a kick to the ball. Keep in mind, she was nowhere near the ball. Then, when the other team would get the ball... which they did... often... like almost always... she would do a tandem grimace and head slap to indicate that she just could not believe the way this game was going down.

Her crowning glory moment came when, in a stroke of luck, probably bad in her estimation, she found herself alone with the ball. It was the perfect moment to draw her foot back and give a well placed kick. A tap even. Not my girl. She values the fine art of sharing. My girl stood there and pointed at the ball. Go Jaguars!