Even Bowheads Play Soccer...Sort of

Our first soccer season has come to a close, and in true 21st century fashion, everyone got a trophy, even those teammates that spent more time sobbing uncontrollably on the bench than actually playing soccer. And, it's not just any trophy, mind you, but a trophy engraved with each player's name sporting a squishy, rotating soccer ball dead center. See for yourselves:

That would be Ellie and BFF Mary Riley. For those of you not up on your anagrams/text message coding (I'm looking at you Grandpa), BFF means Best Friend Forever, although "forever" is a little strong as that best friend title can be stripped at anytime for offenses such as boyfriend stealing, inappropriate sharing skills, lunch table snubbing, and general "she's being mean to me" behavior. And, before you have to ask, bows are indeed part of the uniform. The bigger the better; therefore, Ellie wins, even though Mary Riley scored far more goals this season. Of course, it isn't hard to score more than zero*, but we learned early on that the game was a success if Ellie actually kicked the ball as opposed to merely twirling in circles somewhere near the goal. We got a recount of the actual "kicks" after every match, and by the end she was up to five an outing! Woo hoo! Most "playing time" was spent like this:

Nothing is more important than comparing monkey bar injuries, right? "Hey, 5...7... there's a soccer match going on behind you!" And by "match" I actually mean "magnet ball," wherein a mass of 3 and 4 year olds converge pell mell on one unsuspecting soccer ball en masse and proceed to kick the crap out of it in no discernible direction; ankles, shins, and field twirlers be darned.

In any event, Ellie was the recipient of the MVCP trophy, (Most Valuable Clover Picker, preferably done at mid-field while the rest of the game is raging on around you). All in all, worthy of the excellent naked dog from the Varsity lunch truck and an hour long romp in the bounce house. Go Red Rhinos!

*In all seriousness, MR kicked butt and seemed to at least understand that the goal was to, well, score a GOAL--no points deducted for scoring on your own goalie.