Holy war

Busy collecting the cones after practice tonight when I’m assailed by a soccer mom. It’s obvious from the way she’s squeezing her chai latte too tight she’s got her yoga pants in a twist about something.

‘My son can’t make it this Saturday,’ she says in a strident voice that suggests she’s expecting a confrontation.

‘Oh yeah, what’s the problem?’ I ask.

‘His brother is making his first communion.’

‘Come again?’

‘His brother is making his first communion at the church.’

‘What’s the problem with that? He’s not making it. Just drop him here for the game and somebody will drop him over to the church when it’s over.’

‘The look she shoots me, you’d think I’d just asked her to sacrifice the child on the altar.

‘I don’t think you understand the significance,’ she says, after a particularly long sip of her drink. ‘It’s an important religious ceremony and all the family have to be there.’

‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘I do so understand. I’m a member of the one true church myself. I just don’t understand why all the other kids have to be dragged along for the mass. They’ll probably spend the whole time playing those hand-held video games anyway when no-one is looking. Now be sensible, let your son play the game and I promise to deliver him safely to the party. I mean, that's the important part of the whole day.’

What did she expect me to say? Her son is a good player. I can’t afford to lose him for a vital game just because his brother is receiving the body of Christ for the first time.

‘You are so offensive!’ she shouts as she starts to march away, obviously unable to continue the spiritual debate. ‘You are beneath contempt!’

I stand there shaking my head as she hurls the chai latte against the fence. When I started out in coaching, nobody warned me about the potential problems caused by religious fundamentalists. Time to make that right. 

Commandment of Travel Team Soccer Number 34: The more atheist parents on your team the less disruption will be caused to your squad during a season.