Page 14 of Spectacular Things

Soccer Surprises

The reset works. Liz wakes up the next morning singularly focused on enrolling Mia in peewee soccer.

At four years old, Mia is one of the youngest players on the field: Her jersey drapes past her knees, and her shin guards are so big that they slip down the spindles of her legs and rub blisters into the tops of her ankles.

The discomfort is nothing compared to the thrill.

Like her mother before her, Mia falls instantly for the sport.

Liz attends every practice and game, cheering for her daughter and leaping to her feet whenever Mia wins the ball and shouting encouragement when she loses it.

“Next time, Mia!” Liz yells after an opponent beats her in the midfield.

During Saturday morning scrimmages, Mia pretends not to hear her mom when Liz yells, “Keep the width up top” because Mia has no idea what that means and neither do any of her teammates.

At halftime, when she sees other parents distribute sugar cookies and frosted doughnuts to the team in their huddle, Liz plays along, cooing, “Sprinkles! How fun!” But when it’s her turn for snack duty, Liz uses it as an opportunity to educate the other parents on what’s effective fuel by handing out halved bananas, and kiddie cups filled with her handcrafted rehydrating potion.

Mia dutifully gulps down the electrolytes and her mother’s soccer dream because from the very first practice, she understands what the sport can provide: escape.

With the ball at her feet and a defender on her back, it doesn’t matter that Mia’s father doesn’t live with them, that Q hasn’t called Mia once since he left.

Instead, on the soccer field, Mia focuses on what she can control by running fast and going to goal.

Off the field, Liz teaches Mia to keep track of her team and personal stats in a red spiral notebook. When the Pinchers lose a game, which isn’t often, it’s helpful to see the breakdown and how the numbers add up to the outcome. Mia realizes the numbers always make sense.

Arithmetic, like soccer, presents clear expectations and distinct rules Mia finds easy to follow.

She prefers the predictability of numbers and soccer matches to the ambiguous real-life muck that transpires beyond their boundaries.

It’s impossible to quantify how much she misses Q, but it’s easy to tally up goals.

And whether Mia scores or not, there is always a next time.

Unlike people, the soccer field stays put, waiting for her. In that sense, nothing ever changes.

Until the first Saturday in October. Despite a two-goal lead at halftime, Mia’s team loses. But the true upset occurs after the game, when Mia runs across the field toward the stands and sees her mom puking off the side of the bleachers.