“Davin is playing soccer today,” she said. “Do you want to come watch the game?”
“I’m his grandfather.” I said. “Of course I want to go the game. What kind of team is he on?”
“It’s little boy’s football,” she said. “They are all between the ages of seven and ten years old. The match is at five o’clock.”
I was late getting away from home for the game and then I had a flat tire. By the time I got there the players were just breaking for half time.
After finding Melody I told her,” I’m going to sit down in front by the players. Do you want to come?”
“Go ahead. I’ll stay here.”
The boys came running off of the field and sat on the grass right in front of me while they drank their juices and water.
“Davin, I need to talk to you for a minute,” the coach said.
He led him over by the fence where I sat and said, “Davin, do you know what good sportsmanship is?”
“Then you know that the only thing that matters is whether we win or lose as a team?”
“Did you know that when you get a yellow card it’s not right to scream at the referee and call him idioto Tonto?”
“When I take you out of the game so another little boy can play is it right to call your coach a name like cabron feo who is uglier than a monkey’s butt?”
“No,” Davin said. “It’s not right.”
“Good!” the coach said. “Now, I want you to go over and explain it to your mother.”