Just to eliminate your first guess….no I was not creeping.

I came home from college this Saturday for a friend’s 21st birthday. Sunday morning, my lovely sister wanted to take me out breakfast. What she didn’t tell me is that her boyfriend coaches a 13 year old girls club soccer team, which plays Sunday mornings right next to our favorite breakfast spot.

She dragged me to the game, and naturally I got into it. I was cheering on the bolts excessively, just to embarrass my sister and her boyfriend.

Surprisingly, It was actually quality soccer. I know, I’m a loser and like soccer. It was a tie game with about 10 minutes left when an opposing player had a breakaway. The goalie charged out, dove for the ball, the player tapped the ball sideways, and tripped over the goalies diving body.

Both the goalie and the player were lying on the ground, injured. My sister’s boyfriend runs out to check on his player. The opposing coach, a stumpy Pat Summit looking woman, who was also way too into youth soccer, screamed, “REF ARE YOU SERIOUS THATS A RED CARD!”

The ref appropriately snapped back at her, “Your player is lying on the ground and you’re arguing the call??”

The refs then huddled together, called the goalie over, and gave her a red card. I immediately shouted “BOOOOOOO” as loud as I could, and trust me it’s a small field, everyone could hear. My sisters boyfriend was also arguing the call. However, none of the parents were arguing. You see, I come from a very politically correct community. Most people care more about public image and reputation, than pride and integrity.

After another BOO, the women next to me said, “We’re the bolts. We’re classier than that. Please stop.” I looked at her, looked back at the field and shouted, “Are you kidding me ref, that was clean!”

Then, looked back at the woman and said, “If the ref makes a bad call this late in a close game, I’m going to let him hear about it.”

The woman calls her husband over, who happens to be the director of the whole Bolts program, and he told me to leave the field. Because my sister, who was giving me the death stare, was there, I decided to be the bigger man and vacate the premises.

The girl made her penalty kick, my sister’s boyfriend’s team lost, and didn’t qualify for the playoffs. Good thing he is a man of great culture, who is protesting the game with the board, and you know I’ll be by his side in that hearing.

Morale of the story: Passion should always triumph over reputation