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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather.  This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded 
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to 
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as 
there is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of 
acquiring this material.

   (Copyright 2002, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather at hotmail dot com
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PLAYING THE GAME

A Novel

by R.C. Mather




- 6 -

LORI AND DAVEY AND KIP



The next day, I got a call from the lady who was in charge of
assigning referees to the soccer games sponsored by our soccer
association.

"Hello, Mrs. Dailey," I said. "Is there going to be a schedule
change?"

"No, Sean," she answered. "I got a call from one of the parents at a
game you officiated at last week that I need to talk to you about."

"Oh?" I asked with some apprehension. "Did I do something wrong?" I
was thinking about that game that my concentration was not on after
my experience with Kayla.

"No, Sean, not at all. This was one of your under-eight games from a
couple of weeks ago. It seems you impressed some of the parents. This
particular mom wanted your name and phone number to ask if you would
be interested in giving some private soccer lessons to her children.
Since it's not our policy to just give out telephone numbers, I told
her I would call you and give you her name and number, and if you
were interested, you would call her instead. She agreed to that, so I
have her information if you would like it."

"That's great, Mrs. Dailey, I really appreciate it."

"You know, Sean, usually when I get calls from parents it's to
complain about one of our officials. It's a pleasure to be able to
pass along one of the few compliments we receive. You should feel
good about the job you've been doing out there, and I for one really
appreciate the work you've done."

"Aw, Jeez, Mrs. Dailey, you're embarrassing me, but thanks."

"You're very welcome, Sean," she said. "And thank you."

She gave me the information. The call was from a Mrs. Wilkinson, and
she was interested in beginner lessons for her seven-year-old and
eight-year-old boys. I called her and introduced myself, and we
chatted for a few minutes.

"So, Sean, you were the referee at my son's game. I was really
impressed with how well you were able to communicate with the kids.
Kip is seven and his brother Davey is eight, and they both say they
want to learn how to play better. Would you be interested in helping
them? I'll be glad to pay you by the hour."

"Sure, Mrs. Wilkinson, I'll be glad to help them."

And so arrangements were made. The Wilkinsons lived about half a
mile from my house, so I agreed to meet the boys that afternoon at
their house to start their lessons.

After lunch, I loaded up my gear in a backpack and rode my bike over
to their house. I rang the bell, and a lady answered the door.

"Yes? Oh, hi Sean. I remember you from my sons' game. I'm Lori
Wilkinson. Come on in and meet the boys."

I was a little shocked that this person was really Mrs. Wilkinson.
She looked to be barely into her twenties. She was about 5'6" tall,
slender, with light brown hair cut just to her shoulders. She was
very tan and looked thin, but quite fit. The halter-top she wore
accentuated her small waist and made her top look bigger than it
probably was, and the white shorts made her tan legs look like they
were about a mile long. If she hadn't introduced herself, I would
have assumed she was a college-age babysitter or something.

I followed her back into the house. In the kitchen, she offered me
some lemonade, and then poked her head out the patio door.

"Kip!" she called. "Davey! Come in for a minute, boys!"

I heard them before I saw them. They were yelling and tumbling and
practically doing somersaults over each other on their way into the
house. They stopped for a second when they saw me by the kitchen
table, and Mrs. Wilkinson introduced us.

"Are you going to teach us soccer?" asked Davey.

"You were the referee at my game," said Kip at the same time.

"Yes and yes," I answered. "Do you want to learn?"

"Yeah!" they both yelled. "I'm gonna play for the Chicago Sting!"
shouted Davey.

"Oh yeah? Well, I'm gonna play for... for... the Cubs!" yelled Kip.

"You dope, the Cubs play baseball, not soccer," sneered Davey.

"Not by the time I'm playing for them, they won't be," insisted Kip.

"All right, boys, enough! Grab your soccer gear, and don't forget
your shin guards, and follow Sean, all right? And listen to what he
says, and no smarting off to him. He's the boss. Got it?" Mrs.
Wilkinson pinned them both with a stern eye. "No trouble from you two
hoodlums, okay?" she added.

"Okay!" they shouted in unison. And off they went to collect their
gear.

Mrs. Wilkinson watched them go, and then turned to me.

"They're good boys," she said. "Just a little rambunctious. They'll
listen to you. They really like to play soccer, and I think they
really want to learn."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Wilkinson, we'll be fine. I like little kids, and
your boys look like they know how to have fun. We'll have a good
time, I know we will."

"Thank you, Sean. And please, call me Lori." She poured us both a
little more lemonade while we waited for the boys to come back.



* * * * * * * * * *



I was right about Kip and Davey. They were very active little boys
and we had a lot of fun. They were also happy to listen to what I had
to say, as long as I didn't talk too much. A lot of soccer is learned
by kicking and dribbling, not from lectures, so the boys and I had a
great time at our first lesson working on basics. By the end of the
first lesson, they were actually passing the ball pretty much in the
direction they wanted it to go, and were running ahead of me as we
made our way from the park back to their house. The kids were passing
the ball back and forth and staying about five feet from each other,
as I had taught them.

When we got to their house, they opened the door and burst in,
shouting and yelling to their mother about their lesson. Lori came
out from the back of the house and poured us all more lemonade as she
listened to their excited chatter about all they had learned. Every
once in a while, she would glance up at me and give me a big smile.

Finally, she clapped her hands and said, "Okay, boys, way to go.
Everybody upstairs now, and wash your hands and faces. You guys are
filthy!"

Kip and Davey slammed down their glasses and ran up the stairs, in
constant motion. Lori refilled my glass and reached for her purse.

"Thank you so much, Sean. I really appreciate the time you took with
them. I know they can be a handful sometimes."

"They're great kids, Lori," I said. "They're enthusiastic, they're
friendly, and they really are interested in learning how to play
soccer. They may be a lot of work, but they seem to be a lot of fun,
too."

"They are a lot of work, especially for a single mom. But you're
right, they are fun. Anyway," she said, handing me the money, "here's
for today. Can you come back tomorrow?"

"Sure, and thanks for letting me work with them," I said. We walked
to her front door, and I yelled up the stairs to the boys. "See you
tomorrow, guys! Good job!"

"Bye, Sean!" "See you tomorrow, Sean!"

"Goodbye, Sean. And thank you for taking such good care of my little
guys." She touched my arm lightly as she said goodbye. I hopped on my
bike and rode home, turning back to wave as I rode down the street.
Lori was there, in her doorway the whole time, watching me ride away.





(Continued in Chapter 7)


  
PTG06