Youth soccer is not like professional hockey, this much I learned yesterday at the Minnesota U12 North District playoffs. Almost immediately after my son's squad scored a goal to bring their deficit to 1-2, they tied the score on a soft, long shot from midfield. The opposing goalie reached down to scoop up the dribbler only to see the ball squirt under this hands, between his legs and barely cross the goal line.
This is the playoffs, I said to myself. ("Playoffs? We're talkin' playoffs?" Think Jim Mora) I had never seen such a blunder occur in such a high-stakes contest. The winner of this game made it to the District Championship, where they would play for the right to travel to Blaine, Minnesota, to contend in the State Tournament. BIG STAKES, my friends, the likes of which Jim Mora has only dreamt about.
Well, after said goalie almost single-handedly lost the game for his team I had the immediate reaction to start yelling "SIEVE! SIEVE!" at the top of my lungs and point my finger at him repeatedly. How would the Wild faithful have behaved if Roberto Luongo committed such an atrocity? In exactly the same manner. Just as I was raising my finger into the air I paused a moment to think. How come none of the other soccer dads were on the SIEVE-shouting bandwagon? Well, long story short, my logical side prevailed and I did not mock and ridicule said keeper. It proved to be a smart decision on my part as my son's team went on to lose the game and their season came crashing to a halt. We left the field and went to Quiznos. It was only youth soccer and not the Stanley Cup playoffs.
But, my God, he really should've made that save.