Sunday, March 7

KPR V. Target

Eitan this afternoon following his semi-final cup match, which the lads loose to a good team, 3-nil. Eitan says: "I was disappointed" and gives no further commentary, full stop. He now does his home work. The poor kid does not like Sunday evening and, like me, has anxiety before the new week. Or sometimes it is the Blue Meanies. I used to have this especially bad in New York with the responsibility of a new job I did not fully control and found overwhelming. Sunday then, in fact, the worst. Sonnet cheers up the mood by offering "Harry Potter." She knows how to make everybody feel good.

So the football match: KPR plays Target, and we drive to the Cranmore Boys School in West Horsley, Surrey for the action (Eitan: "this is, like, in the middle of no where"). No sat-nav, no-way. It is a beautiful sunny day like we have not had in months but bitterly cold - I wear a down vest and down jacket and stomp my feet to keep warm. The boys anxious and it shows: Robert blocks a cross pass - hand ball! - and Target draws blood on the penalty. Their kids big and fast, and know how to play together using fast-breaks, open pitch and competent passing to keep KPR off-balance. One little dude flicks the ball so adroitly around ours that I think of a movie reel on fast-forward. He is that quick. Eitan is neutralised and while he is able to skirt around individuals, Target's depth wears him down by the time he is near enough for a strike. By half, Target leads 3-0 and our coaches huddle up the boys for a new strategy: "Get in there and play!" (Eitan tells me later). While KPR does not score the second half they stymie Target from increasing their lead; our goalie Maxime makes several heroic saves including a full body stretch parallel to the ground Super Man style. Wills, the sun of a taxi driver and KPR's defensive backbone, delivers several crushing tackles. By game's end, KPR has redeemed some of the first half and rewarded with donuts. The rest of us huddle around and urge the scrum towards the parking lot and warm cars (Eitan and his chums would happily play until sundown). We eat M&M's on the ride home and listen to Aston Villa v. Reading in the FA Cup semi-final.

Eitan: "You know, Dad, every song you sing is awful."
Me: "Some might say it is a good thing that I like to sing."
Eitan: "Some might not have ever heard you sing."
Me: "Oh, says the choir boy."
Eitan: