She Shoots!

When it comes to sports, I am all about going out there to have us some fun.
Strap on that sports gear, fill up the ole water bottle with crisp, clean water and get on the field.
Or step onto the ice.
Or walk onto the court.
Or slip into the water.
Get in the game, cheer on your people and have some good clean fun.
High-five-slappin' fun.
We got the G, we got the O, we got the GO-GO-GO kinda fun.
Wide toothy smiles, fists pumpin', belly screamin' fun.
The kind of fun where we all cheer each other on even if the score is 10-1 for the other team.
"Way to go!"
"Nice try!"
"Better luck next time!"

But, tonight, when my daughter broke free from the pack and headed on up the field on a break-away, something primal broke loose deep within me.

I stared slack-jawed at that girl.
Her brown braids streamed back over her shoulders as she zipped up up up and away.
The other kids were still hacking, kicking, and elbowing each other in a condensed pack of wild, ball-thirsty, karate-chopping, kung-fu kicking crazy.
But my daughter.....be still my soul....she broke free from all those twisted limbs.
The soccer ball was at her feet, she tipped it forward and ran.
Her long, gazelle-like legs flitted, fluttered, and fled.
Her black shorts were hiked up high to give those legs some room and they stretched forth in a twiggy blur of speed.

The other kids finally took notice and began to disentangles themselves from one another.
"Ow."
"That's my foot."
"Get off my shoe-lace.....which is undone...again...."
"Hey, where's the ball?"
"I'm thirsty.  When's snack-time?"

Time stood still.
One brown-braided girl flicked the soccer ball ahead and zipped along, her black, cleated feet skimming the grassy ground.
One freckled goalie hunched forward, eyes narrowed, tongue flicking out nervously and he inched forward to face his braided nemesis.
Two coaches leaned forward on tip-toes and craned their feminine necks to see over the tangled team-mates.
Parental conversation tapered off mid-sentence.
And then.....one stick-like leg drew back, muscles bunched and she kicked.  One solid thwump rang clear as her foot thwacked that ball.  It arced through the air in a black and white blur and the goalie's hands clutched at nothing.  He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap as the ball slammed past him into the net.
There was a split milli-second of complete and utter silence and, then, mayhem broke loose.

My daughter spun around, jumped up and down and pumped her arms high in triumph.  Our eyes met and I shrieked out a gut-busting, throat-searing scream: "GOOOOOAAAAAAALLL!"
There were high-fives and big smiles all around.
Kids cheered and parents clapped politely.
My daughter galloped over, we high-fived and, then, I tugged playfully on a braid.
"Way to go!  That was AMAZING!!!" I gushed through a gigantic smile that was nearly splitting my face in two.  My eyes were round with wonder and pride.
My girl just scored her Very First Goal and she did it with finesse, I tell you!
I just can't even get over this moment.
I may even have wept a little.

You know, the game is fun and the cheering is great.  The sport is all about being with the people and having a good time.  A clean time.  A being together and encouraging one another on time.
But there is still something about scoring a goal.
About gaining a point.
About breaking on out of the pack on a breakaway.
There's still something about taking that shot and hearing those words:
"She shoots. She scoooores!"

What a night!