I had to update my post for today. The guys at the weather service predicted 55 F. and sunny for today. It rained most of the day and now it is 30 F. and is snowing.
Now for our feature presentation.
Those who know me also know that I am not one to complain. At least never without a good reason, and even if my reason may not seem like a good one to you, trust me when I say it is.
Our fair city is hosting The Fort Lowell Soccer Shootout this weekend. Hundreds of youth soccer teams from Arizona, New Mexico, California, Colorado, Texas and Mexico have invaded our fair city in general and my neighborhood in particular.
Had Agatha Christie been a sportswriter and subjected to kid soccer players and their insufferable parents, instead of being a mystery novelist, we might have a movie named Monsters Most Foul, rather than Murder Most Foul, which was actually based her novel, Mrs. McGinty's Dead. You get the idea.
There is nothing more boorish in the world than groups of yuppie soccer parents. Wait, they are worse if they are willing to travel out of state to watch little Ashley and Justin run around a field while they talk among themselves about the poor sportsmanship shown by competing teams, where little Tyler and Jessica will play next year and what tournaments you just have to be at, if you are to be taken seriously in the ultra-competitive world of kid soccer.
Here's a hint. Soccer is an activity, it is not a career path, except for one in ten million kids, none of whom live in North America. Help your kids get a quality education and you will not have to support them in your old age. Some folks think kid soccer teaches kids valuable life skills. That may be right if by valuable life skills you mean being a delusional, self-important knucklehead, who confuses a child's activity with important stuff.
What got this rant started was an encounter with a mob of these hyperactive hooligans and their tedious parents. I went to buy bagels this morning and the shop was crawling with about ten eight year-olds and four sets of precious mommies and daddies.
While these four sets of aspiring sports agents, I mean parents, sat discussing the play of their little darlings, said darlings were wrecking havoc on the shop and generally annoying the other patrons. As I waited in line to pay, I could hear the conversation and one dad said solemnly, "While our kids tried to warm up, the other team came over and was warming up right in the way." Talk about your hardships.
One mom told her kid to "get your drink before someone throws it away." I guess she hasn't learned or had to clean up after herself. Perhaps it is multigenerational sloth.
We have had rain the past few days here in our fair city. These kids had tracked mud and grass in their soccer cleats everywhere through out the store in big clumps and smears. They had been crammed at a table together and their debris was everywhere, drinks spilled on the table and floor, wrappers and napkins everywhere. They kept holding the door open and letting the cold in. Finally one mom herded the hyenas out to the front of the store and supervised them while they emptied a rack of real estate newpapers and threw them at one another.
So anyway, come Monday they will all be back home terrorizing someone else. Until next year.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky
Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor
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