Z, the six year old, is in the U8 league (for you soccer virgins - bless you, this means under eight ). Here is his team at work, all relentlessly chasing the ball with no goal (literally or figuratively) in sight.
Two of his team-mates are in their fifth season, and they can do the bicycle kick (a la Pele). I understand that LA is scouting them to replace Beckham due to his recent injury. Besides, then Becks can spend more quality time at home with the missus - I understand that Posh is quite the homebody. They run around the field like maniacs, stealing the ball and scoring and running past everyone with impunity. Their steals are not restricted to the other team, but they are still superstars.
My child picks flowers, visit with his friends, and (once in a while) kicks the ball. In his defense, he was blessed with my athletic prowess, so we are hoping for an academic scholarship in his future.
B, at four, plays in the U6 league (under six, of course). They call this "beehive" soccer. All of the bees run around after the ball, in a little swarm. There are two "ringers" on the team, the little guy in the pink shirt and the one with the orange shirt - fast and focused five-year-olds. On the other hand - that adorable little four-year-old standing next to his mommy fires up the waterworks after about every ten seconds of play. His dad is frustrated, and the little guy really loves to play (for about five seconds at a time). But, the tears on the field are so sweet; you can't help but pull for the little guy. My son stopped play yesterday to tell the little guy's dad that the the little guy had told my son he is nice (and, said son, your little guy is really nice too). There is my little fella in the blue shirt and red socks, taller than most of the five-year-olds, several of whom are in their third season. He makes up for his lack of understanding with unbridled enthusiasm.
I am not a huge soccer fan, but honestly watching these kids play is an absolute hoot.
Of course, this is nothing like soccer either.