Abby Goes to War

Good afternoon, America.

Not since Yours Truly graced (or not-so-graced, rather) the ski slopes back in 1998 has a Hough been actively involved in a regulated sport.  We're not necessarily known as an 'athletic' clan by any means, but we're looking at remedying that as soon as humanly possible, and having our children pick up the torch that Kris and I lazily dropped on the way back to the couch.

Abby has shown an interest in soccer for awhile now, and so this fall Kris signed her up for the Midland Soccer Club (Alayna, as you could probably guess, showed little interest in sports of any kind - she takes after her old man, what can I say.)  This entailed hour-long soccer practices twice a week, with a game (or, on occasion, two) every Saturday, for about two months.

Today was her very first game against another team, and it was, well, exactly what you'd expect from a bunch of six-year-old girls.

Check it out. . .

A soggy, rainy warm-up before the game.  I guess they're supposed to practice for twenty minutes before the game starts.

Abby's pretty aggressive with the ball during practice, but that wouldn't necessarily translate into the game itself. . .

Couch gives the team - The Champions (the girls came up with the name themselves) - the mandatory pep talk.

Stretching before the game.  'Cause, you know, you don't want to strain yourself.  With all that intense cardio you're about to do.  With your six-year-old legs and all.

Practicing with the goalie-free net (and don't you worry, folks - they'd be goalie-free during the game, too.)

Defense.  On it.

Kick off.  The other team was non-appropriately named The Cheetahs.

Another selfie from the Cannonball

Abby never charged after the ball like she usually did in practice, but instead jogged behind it from a relatively safe distance.  No idea why, it's totally not in her personality to play like that.

The kids took turns playing every other quarter (Abby played during the first and third quarters, and subsequently took shelter from the rain under this mondo-umbrella during her down time.)

Cheetahs and Champions

(This happened a LOT.)

Enjoying herself.  Can't blame her, honestly - her team massacred the other team 12 - 0.  Not that we adults are supposed to keep score or anything.

(I'm that dad.)

Balls in.

The mandatory 'good game' line.  I always hated that, and never meant a word of it.

The parents formed this weird 'victory tunnel' for the kids of both teams to run through, which weirded us out at first.

And that was how Abby's first soccer game went:  it rained the entire time, she never once kicked the ball, but a bunch of Cheetahs were slaughtered.  Go Houghs.

- Brian