Old Yeller

GRIN # 412

Saturday was the start of the fall soccer season.

I’m always reminded at this time of year what a good sense of humor God has. Because as much as I don’t understand ANY sport (First down? no idea. Off sides? Still don’t get it) I have a son who loves sports and so every Saturday morning, my ample rear is plastered on a bleacher or in a dilapidated lawn chair.

But. I will say this: I do cheer. Now, I often say “Make a goal!” when “Score a basket!” is what is wanted, but whatever. Tomato, tomahto.

So, I was all set up Saturday when a teammate’s family asked if we could make room for them on the sidelines. Sure thing. They had the grandmother in tow and an extra kid and we all scooched over to make room. The more the merrier. I was half in a hole to accommodate them, but that’s fine. Or it was then.

Then the game started. “Go Tyler!” “Go Flyers!” I yelled.

“Oh God,” the grandmother said. I didn’t pay any attention to her because I figured she wasn’t talking to me.

Some of the players were getting distracted; they’re just eight after all. “Keep your head in the game, guys,” I yelled.

“Not again!” the grandmother moaned.

The mother leaned forward around her husband AND her mother and said to me, “Hey! Are you a yella?”

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“A yella? Are you a yella? Because my motha always sits next to a yella and it gives her a headache.”

Well I…”

“She’s a yella, Ma! She’s gonna do it the whole game. It’s in her nature. She can’t help it. Switch seats with Steve, Ma.”

It freakin’ pissed me off how she talked about me like I wasn’t even there. Damn.

So I smiled, which is what Southern women do when we’re pissed off, and I said loudly, “Well, you know I figure if I’m going to come I might as well show up if you know what I mean.”


I continued: “It’s kind of like if you go to a class you might as well sit up front and participate, right? Otherwise, why go?”


I was on a roll now. “If you think about it, it’ s a good metaphor for life, really. Always do your best. Give 100 percent.”

Still nothing. Cowards. By this time Steve was sitting next to me looking apologetic and sheepish.

Oh, grow a pair! Honestly, I can’t stand a wimpy man.

I simmered down, of course, and thought of moving, but that would’ve been rude. Why I cared about this, I don’t know.

It occurred to me later that my on-the-spot metaphor for life conflicts with my personal mottoSometimes good enough is good enough.”

God, I love that motto.

But when it comes to my kid, just showing up isn’t enough.

At least I got a new nickname out of it.

Get ready, grandma, and steer clear. I have a feeling I’m going to yell more than ever this season.


6 Responses to “Old Yeller”

  1. Love it Chrissy! Tell G-ma to stay home next time or go back north (I can say that; I’m a damn Yankee myself) BTW….the terminlogoy is ‘offsides’ vs. ‘all sides’….but I get watcha mean πŸ™‚ Go Tyler!!!!!

  2. All I can say is she better pray she never sits next to me… I am the queen yella! πŸ˜‰ I just can’t help it… It’s in my nature…

  3. I am also a “yella” Chrissy! And….I also whistle LOUD (you know when you put two fingers together) – that’s me! When I do this at events, some folks will clasp their hands over their ears and turn around and look angry at me. REALLY??….it’s not THAT loud! I’m like, if you’re not here to root for your team, why are you here? I would be glad to sit next to you Chrissy – don’t stop yellin girl! πŸ™‚

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