Last weekend was slightly breezy here in the fair Texas panhandle: 50 mile an hour winds with gusts around 65.
It was the perfect time for a soccer game.
Dust and rocks and leaves and grass blew in front of us as if they had been shot out of a jet engine, and the the two soccer teams of second grade little boys had to stand diagonally into the wind to keep from being knocked over. Even the referee was having trouble and had to keep his foot on the ball before kickoff. Otherwise the ball would fly off like being shot from a cannon.
It was almost impossible to kick the ball into the wind. When there was a goal kick (for this type of small soccer, a goal kick is on the out-of-bounds line next to the goal), the kids would kick it hard enough that the ball would make it about five feet into the air and then abruptly reverse and fly backward into the wrong goal.
And even the kids, who sometimes ignore the weather so they can swarm around the soccer ball, kicking frenetically, weren't immune by this nasty, chunky, pelting wind. When one of Alex's teammates asked if they were the home or away team, Alex simply responded:
"More like the blow away team."
