I dropped the photograpic ball after the dance. If I'm honest, I'll tell you that my Cannon A95 is hoplessly outdated and not able to keep up with the shutter speed needed to get halfway decent pics of my kids on the field (Note to family and friends. I have no shame .I'm using the blog as a forum to fish for you to team up and buy me something cute and techie (with a zoom lens) for my birthday! Early would be okay, too, as round two of the Region cup fast approaches). Editorial comments aside, credit to team mom Tess for her fab photoof the TQ in action.

Because of the dance, my dh and I missed my son's first round game. The report came in. They got skunked. The other team (a nationally ranked A team versus our B leauge champs) literally ran circles around them. My son gave up almost as many goals in that game than he did all of the last season. He was pretty beat up and upset.

The team had to be on the field early the next morning for thier next game. Most of the boys were tired and still pouting over their loss the night before (these boys rarely lose). Their effort was lackluster and it showed in their 1-0 loss.

Sunday, something changed. While they now had no chance of making the semifinals, they rallied and won a very close and hard fought game, 3-2.

So why am I so proud of my son?

--Friday night was a good reminder that his team needs to be challenged to get better. Very little is learned by winning all the time. His team needs to move up and work this hard every week, not just rest on their laurels while dominating the B leauge. Friday night also reminded him that it takes an entire team to win, not just the efforts of one person. He may have felt like the goals allowed were all his fault, but his defense wasn't there for him.

--Saturday, the coach was upset with the boys, not because they lost, but because their heart wasn't in the game after Friday's defeat. My son was one of four boys on the roster who was recognized for not giving up and fighting through the whole game. I know this is a child who struggles with putting in maximum effort (he was the child who had to be nudged out of recreational ball and into competitive, as he was afraid it'd be "too hard and too much work"). Hearing this made me rejoice in the way the Lord is growing him in this area.

--This is also my child who hates being out of his comfort zone. However, he's grown as a player this year, and after the first half of the second game, the coach put the 2nd keeper in and put him on defensive wing to strengthen the line. He hung in there and performed well in a high-pressure situation, despite it not being his favored position to play.

On to the TQ. They tied one (a well matched game), they lost one (probably the result of another flat effort) and they dominated their last match from the first moment of play. They had a slim bid at the semifinal wildcard, but didn't get it.

So why so proud?

We don't talk about it much, but our last season with the local team was very rough on the TQ. She was pigenholed by a very rigid coach who only allowed her to train and play as a keeper, then criticized her skills when she was on the field (all of three minutes during the season). He also tore down her former (much beloved) coach in Arizona.

Needless to say, we switched teams and clubs this season, but there was damage to repair. She lacked confidence on the field and her skills were behind the other girls. She spent most of her time in the box or on the bench.

She continued to work hard, even practicing with her brother's club when her own club was off, and by the time the team came up for the first round of the Region Cup, she had gained the trust of her coaching staff.

For the first time in a year, I saw my daughter on the soccer field, playing like she loved the game and it loved her. She was back in a big way.

During their last rout, there was a particularly rabid soccer dad (from the other team!) on the sidelines (heck, he was so close that he was almost on the field). He was LOUD and pretty obnoxious.

I fell in love with him for a moment.

He kept screaming things like "WATCH NUMBER 16!! WATCH HER!". Then he'd turn to the other parents and say "She's tall and knows how to use her height. She's fast. She's watching the game ALL THE TIME and she's playing smart."

Yeah, that's my girl. Welcome home, soccer diva.