For me, this has to be a most unexpected entry. What I know about soccer would not fill a thimble. I'm not even sure if the word soccer is used by the rest of the world the way it is used here. Anyway, I found myself unexpected thrown into a room full of soccer enthused men and nary a female (except ME) in sight. How in the world did this happen?
It all started Friday night when Dave, a man in Don's Bible study group called to say that Motamba (from Kenya) was hosting a BBQ at his place Sunday and the families were invited to join in on the fun of watching the Italians and the French knock each other out to score goals with a little white and black ball but not touch it with their hands. OK. I can do that. It's something social and the ladies will either join in or adjourn to poolside.
So off we go Sunday driving north about 40 minutes to our destination. We aren't the first to arrive but I AM the first wife to arrive. Okay, I can deal and darn isn't that French captain just the yummiest thing. I'm cheering for Italy, mind you; after all I'm half Italian (thank you, mom). Several door knocks later more men have arrived. I'm beginning to feel wildly outnumbered, feeling critical of the cameraman and lack of close-ups of the game, and can't concentrate on the J.D. Robb book I brought with me (just in case). Don doesn't know the first thing about soccer either but he is enjoying the comraderie of the group. Quanah could care less so thirty minutes later he is taking me home. He returned later to pick up Don and the final report?
Italy 5/France 3/no women.
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