Free Parking

I took Ryan to the park yesterday to play soccer. I was trying to be discrete, because he was playing with some friends and I didn't want them to come along--it really changes the dynamic when his friends are around. One of them is 6 months older than Ryan and loves to compete with him--everything is a race or a contest of how far you can throw the ball, etc., and he's savvy enough to take every advantage, taking a head start or throwing off Ryan's concentration and other somewhat "dirty" tricks. Soccer season is starting again, so I just wanted to get Ryan focused on what he should be learning without any distractions.

I went to pick him up at his friend's house and he was disappointed--his turn on the Ninentendo was coming up and now he was going to miss it. I got him out to the car and buckled in--he was whining the whole time about not being able to take his turn on the video game, so I mentioned that we were going to the park to play soccer and ride bikes. He got excited, unbuckled his seat belt, and ran into the house to announce to his friends that he was going to the park and, to my embarrassment, invited them to come along. The two boys started jumping up and down excitedly and I had to be the grinch and un-invite them...

We got out to the park and had a nice, enjoyable time practicing soccer--I brought along his soccer goal and we practiced out in an open area because the field had a big "Closed" sign stuck right in the middle of it. This is something that really ticks me off about our city--there are probably 30 different soccer and baseball fields but they are all stamped with signs that say "game field only" and are only used on Saturday. I always hate people who complain about "using my tax dollars...", but in this case, it is quite annoying to be effectively shoo'd off a public field when you're trying to practice with your son. Another time, an ignorant old man called the police to complain that Ryan and I were launching his model rocket in the park, saying that we were shooting off fireworks (which is illegal)--an off-duty fireman pulled up and warned us that we had better get out of there or we would get a ticket.

And one last crazy park story: when my two younger brothers were young, they were always fighting with each other. We were at the (same) park playing baseball and they were being especially argumentative. One brother, P, was being especially cranky, and my brother N got upset with him and threw the ball and hit him. He fell down on the ground and I ran up to him and pretended to give him CPR. I guess I should get an Academy Award or something, because a man was driving by with his family and they jumped into emergency assistance mode--they called the police (anyone detect a trend here?) and the guy hurdled the fence screaming like a banshee. Boy, he was decidedly pissed at me when I looked up and realized that he had taken me seriously. I mean, what's it to him if I'm doing CPR in the park?

So, yesterday, we were playing soccer and two Mexican guys came by and smiled at us as we practiced along--they went out onto the closed field and started using the "closed" sign for target practice, bouncing the ball off it.

Ryan finally got tired of making goals--I had frustrated him by trying to get him to control the ball better, so he was ready to ride bikes now. He rode around the football field a couple of times and then, with a big grin, challenged me "Dad--I bet I can beat you going around the field!"

I knew he could beat me, but I decided to take the challenge, and thought my only chance lay in getting a head start. I took off running before he was ready (see, I accused his friend of "dirty tricks" unfairly) and put as much effort as possible into it. Even when I was in high school I was a pretty slow runner, but I was proud that I was going full force now, and made it through the first leg of the race in first place, with Ryan giggling and coming up behind me.

Then I got a little distracted.

Apparently, my monumental exertion had caught the interest of the Mexican guys and they stood in the middle of the field, mouths wide open, watching me plow across the field laboriously, breathing like one of those deep water free-divers about to go for the record. Then I realized that the guy closest to me had a sort dazed of expression on his face. Admiration? no.

Alarm.

The expression on his face read "Something has motivated this guy to run for the first time in the last 5 years....should I be worried?"

Then I saw his eyes wander behind me to see if there was someone chasing me with an AK-47, and then look in front of me to see if there was an overturned 18-wheeler full of Ho-Ho's and Snapple.

No, just a giggling 6-year-old on a bike, off-roading into a huge, wet mud puddle.

I was just proud to get all the way around the field without a cardiac arrest--I realized that, physically, I am pretty much good for nothing at this point.

I won the race because Ryan got more interested in the mud puddle and stopped racing, and, thankfully, no one called the cops.