When I got to the football ground I was embarrassed to find that I was the only mum from son's class to be there.
It was our wedding anniversary -- our nineth -- and I had plans to do as little as possible. But son wanted me at his football game. So there I was jumping up and down by the goal-line of the opposing team. They had a larger fan club.
But the goal-keeper was really bored. All the action was on the other side of the pitch.
My son's team was thrashed. O, never mind.
I was heartened, however, to see that he was taking an active part and had indeed made many good defensive moves to keep the score difference down.
Amongst other things, they had at one point, the boy with the smallest stature at goal. The opposition kicked the ball so hard he managed to catch hold of the ball but the momentum of the kick pushed him across the line, at which point he dropped the ball. So it was a goal to the opposition.
At other times this and the other goal-keepers had their backs to the rest of the team, watching the 'A' team battle it out on the adjoining pitch. "Stand in front of the goal line!" I found myself shouting at whoever was at goal.
It was hilarious. It was.
The other consolation is the boys whom I know have been taking football lessons weren't any better than my son. So, there!
When we got home there was still homework to do.