Number 9

Today was Emma's first official soccer game. It was a bit of an operation to get the 4 of us to the field at 8:45 on a Saturday morning. I found myself thinking What have I gotten myself into? Does Emma really NEED to play soccer yet? Maybe I should have waited a couple more years to commit myself to several hours of weekly practice and early morning weekend games. . . But it will be worth it, I tell myself. All the friends she'll make and lessons she'll learn about teamwork, and "winning isn't everything," and all that jazz.

Soon the chaos, I mean the game, began. It felt like herding cats, no-- little kitties. And every time we gained control of the ball, one particular opponent, Number 9, who was bigger and stronger, kept stealing it. How dare she! Didn't your mom teach you-- No stealing! Wait, this is soccer. But she was dominating even our best players, time and time again!

After half time, our team was becoming discouraged. She was working them over, so she was moved to goalie.

Whew! FINALLY- we could make an attempt at scoring, for after all, she was less of a threat from within the confines of the goalie box.

And who should make the first attempt? Yep, you guessed it-- Emma. My sweet, much smaller than Number 9, Emma.

She dribbles! She shoots!

DENIED. Darn that Number 9!

More struggling amongst the cats and Emma emerges forward again, dribbling toward the goal. Number 9 is all that is between her and sweet success. Go Emma Go!!!

She dribbles! She shoots!

GOAL!!! Wooo hooo!!! And she skips happily around the field, the game tied 1 to 1.

So there was indeed a lesson. Emma recognized on her own that Number 9 was a force and that it was a big deal to have scored. She will now have more confidence in soccer, and even life. As my dad so wisely pointed out,

Sometimes there are Number 9's in your life.

What will you do next time you are faced with one?