|
|
3月28日
Ugh. Why? What was wrong with the old uniforms?
Cheesy, shiny fabric (are they supposed to be flame-retardant)? The pinstripes make them look like pajamas. And those shirts are baggy--why aren't they sleek and stylish, like the Azurri? Why can't the US Soccer emblem be smaller and more understated?
Grade: D 3月14日
Tomorrow's little getaway to Dallas is ostensibly to check out my brother's new house, give The Girl a break from dreary Evanston, and look in on my parents.
I have assigned myself a significant task to accomplish during those four days, though. My brother's attitude toward the beautiful game can best be described as disrespectful. Over the years I've had to listen to his tiresome, cliche-ridden laundry list of our sport's supposed negative attributes. Do I need to bother sharing the details with you, dear readers? Nah--you've heard it all before.
There's another attraction to the north Dallas suburbs whom I've yet to mention. She is called Katie. She's my niece, all of four years old, darling, active, super-bright, The Girl's favorite cousin, my brother's only child. The other day the usual wacky brew of disparate thoughts swirling around in my head converged thusly:
- Katie lives in Plano, which is just down the road from Frisco, which is the home of FC Dallas.
- It seems that the consumer is king--er, princess--here in the U.S. As everyone knows, little princesses love nothing better than to surround themselves with pink-ness. With that in mind, here's what I'll be shopping for as soon as the plane lands. Size 3 should be about right.
- I remember the day when Katie's cousin (aka The Girl) came home from her very first soccer practice. "I want to play soccer every day!" she announced. Lately she's been tied up with study-abroad paperwork, French grammar assignments and history term papers, so I'm guessing that she'd love to have a kick around with Katie in that brand-new back yard.
My brother is several years younger than I and long ago perfected the role of teasing little brother. Like when he carried the dictionary to me, at the age of six, and pointed out that pygmies were people whose average height was five feet tall--like me. Or when he was four and called me "Mom" in public places. This weekend, I'm on a mission: to transform Katie into an ardent soccer supporter. At first she'll fall in love with kicking the ball around, but I have high hopes that she'll be begging to go to the games at Pizza Hut Park in a couple of years. I'm dreaming of the day when my brother complains that Katie keeps the TV tuned in to Fox Soccer Channel to catch all the EPL and Serie A action.
As they say, revenge is a dish best served cold.
|
工具 
