I am sitting in the second story bleachers in the gymnasium in Södra Sandby having my knees bumped by every soccer-playing prepubescent boy in the village AND their parents as they walk back and forth in front of me.
Karin is participating in Sandby Cup, along with some of her other teammates, despite the fact that it’s a boys tournament. I don’t know if they just didn’t have enough players or what, since these are only 13-minute 5-man indoor games but she asked me twice if I would come watch and since I feel guilty about the amount of her games last season that I didn’t see, I agreed…also because it’s inside and I don’t have to stand on the edge of a wet field in the rain and because I love her and a couple of hours in a smelly gym won’t kill me.
She has missed a lot of soccer this year, both because of sore throats and knee issues so this is the first time she has played in awhile. It’s been hard for her because she’s the soccer kid and a lot of her definition of self comes from this. I can relate: I was the choir kid.
But I hope that she, like me, can broaden her view of herself just in case the knee thing turns out to be a significant hindrance. In the meantime, her team is up to play in one minute so I have to go cheer now.