Happy Monday! It’s past Halloween so it’s time to turn on the icicle lights around the family room window. I know most people don’t like the early sunsets this time of year, but I look forward to cocooning.

In this month of concentrated gratitude, I’m particularly grateful we live close to most of the Grands (while missing those in Ohio). We can attend school concerts and fundraising races, zip up the road for a quick drop-in, go trick-or-treating with them, and watch one Grand’s weekly soccer practices and games. This past Tuesday’s game was memorable.

E’s team wasn’t the best in the league. The age range was 8-10 years old, E being one of the youngest and by far the smallest. Watching him on the field was like watching a colt running unfettered, but still focused on what was happening with the ball. This was his third season, but a few on his team had never played. Neither had the volunteer coach, but she was absolutely amazing! She’d obviously read up not only on the rules, but also strategy, drills, and most importantly how to coach and instill teamwork. After loss after loss she’d tell the parents, ‘I hate this for them when they play their hearts out. I just don’t want them ending the season hating soccer.’ Their last game they came back from a 3-0 deficit to tie it up in the last period. They ended the regular season with no wins, two ties and a handful of losses. Yet after every game, we never saw anger or unsportsmanlike conduct over the outcome. Maybe a little disappointment, but huge smiles and pride.

This past Tuesday was the first game of the play-off season. In this rec league, all teams get a clean slate for the play-offs, and every team got to start, including E’s.

It’d rained for two days before and half the day already that day and it was cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and stays there. The game was moved from one field, which would’ve been like playing a mud match, to one with artificial turf. Unfortunately, the move also moved the game back an hour to 7:30.

Off Hubby and I went to the field … dressed like we were going to an evening Ohio football game: sweaters and winter jackets, my hood lined, leggings under my jeans, Hubby in a hat. And gloves. I toted a thermos of hot cider and a box of Kleenex. (I was fighting either a head cold or allergies. It didn’t matter which, I wasn’t getting too far from a box of tissues.)

We arrived and watched the soft rain sparkle as it fell into the glow from the field lights. People for the earlier game cheered from beneath umbrellas. As we waited for our Grand and the rest of the team, we stood beneath a portico with a parent who was wrapped in a blanket. E and some of his teammates started trickling in, but not many. The coach arrived, ‘We may have to forfeit. We’re already down five players who aren’t coming.’ At this age, regulation has them fielding nine players, but they can play with seven. Six is a required forfeit. At this point four had shown up and we were getting close to game time. The coach offered to call it and take all the kids for ice cream.

The other team–the second-place team overall during regular season–and coach arrived. Our coach went over to chat with him. While she was gone, three other teammates arrived. Technically we could play, but would the other team still field nine? Would he be willing to drop a couple and play with seven? Would he be willing to just play a scrimmage?

She came back. The other coach consented to fielding only seven, but it would be an official game, no scrimmage. The rain became a mist, the wind picked up. It was still cold. The other team had the potential of creaming us. The coach–and we other adults–didn’t really want our team to end their season with a trouncing, when their last game had been a stunning comeback, even with the loss. Our coach laid this all out to the team, she wanted the kids to make the decision. She reiterated the offer of ice cream.

Each team member, when asked individually, answered ‘Play!!’ without hesitation. We were so proud of those little buggers. They ran off to warm up, and we parents and grandparents hoisted our camp chairs and headed to the sidelines.

I wish I could say, “And then they won!!” But they didn’t. What they did do was hold the other team to three goals, none of them in the second half, and they scored a goal, so it wasn’t a shut-out. The coach and we were so very proud of them, not just for the way they played, but in their enthusiasm and hope, and unwavering belief in themselves. How they didn’t take the easy way out. How they dug in and did the hard work on a full field when they were down two players. How crappy weather didn’t deter them. How they listened to their own hearts and not the adult’s well-intentioned protectiveness.

After the game they still carried all that. They let the loss go. To the coach’s credit, not one of them hated soccer at the end of the season. This past Saturday she treated them to ice cream.

Maybe lessons for all of us in there.

I have a wonderfully crazy week ahead of me so the soft twinkle lights will be a welcome sight each morning and evening. I hope your week is wonderful too, filled with many things to be thankful for. I’ll be back on Monday and hope you will be too.