Ok, perhaps despair might be a strong word, but I had tournament detail with the boys yesterday and it was a really tough day for them. We drove 90 minutes each way so that each of them could play two hourlong games in 90+ degree heat; Thing One's games at 10 and 3:30 and Thing Two's at 3 and 5. Long day of shuttling around from field to field lugging camp chairs and coolers and tents and collapsible team benches and all the other folderol that goes along with spending a full summer day outside watching soccer. And that was just me: they actually had to run around in that brutal heat!
Thing One's team never had a prayer of competing going in; at least they knew that. A couple of their opponents should have been flighted higher and their team is a mix of 12 and 13 year-olds playing all 13 year-olds. It does raise the very legitimate question of why the hell they PLAY in this tournament, but I'm being logical again. Anyway, they lost their two games by a combined total of 0-15 and the games were painful for everyone involved. Nobody has fun when things are that lopsided.
Thing Two's team lost their first game 1-6. Because there was overlap in our second and third game times, I had to choose one, so I caught that game and then ran over to watch the second half of Thing One's second game. That ended about ten minutes before Thing Two's second game started, so I ran *back* to Thing Two's field and arrived just in time to see him absolutely DRILL a ball into the net! Two minutes later, he did it again. I was jumping up and down like a crazy woman. (He almost had a hat trick, but the third shot went wide.) He was in the goal the second half and made a couple of beautiful diving saves, too. Final score was 8-4 for the only win of the tournament!! At least it ended on a high note...I'd been darkly muttering to myself about exercises in self-flagellation all day. :)