Little 8 (People Watching)
Little 8
The sky above was a murky grey, a light sprinkle of rain drizzling over the Nampa Kids Soccer fields. A moist, cold wind swept across the fields, parents and families huddled together on the sidelines to watch the games. Fuzzy blankets adorn their shoulders and they laugh and talk cheerfully as they wait for the game to start. The little players on the miniature field with tiny goals on either end line up to practice kicking the ball into the goal. Their inexperience causes the soccer ball to roll in many directions, often somewhere far from their target.
A young boy, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his caramel colored hair from under his neon green jersey, attempts to roll the ball into the goal with his hands when he thinks no one is looking. He skips as he runs when it's his turn in line again, performing a little leap as he sends the ball gently rolling into the goal. Soon it's time for the ref to do an equipment check and the young boy, his limbs gangly and thin, lines up on the center line with his teammates now, listening to his coaches talk to them about the game.
But they cannot hold his small attention span for long and he turns and watches the opposing team with great interest, his curious eyes moving to watch the ref next as he talks with them. His attention returns to his team when they are called into a huddle. He chatters about some things with his coach and pals, standing with his hands in the pockets of his black soccer shorts. In the team huddle the young children fidget with tireless energy. One coach kneels before them, discussing strategy that their young minds are most likely soon to forget.
And the ref signals that it is time for the game to start. The little boy's team head to their side of the field now, settling in among their water bottles and soccer bags. The coaches debate which four kids they should put in to play first. Numbers 26, 48, 6, and 83 for the green team are in and the game starts. The little boy, number 8, sits on the sideline watching his buddies kick the ball back and forth, rocking with excitement.
He watches the game, his eyes narrowed as he bites his bottom lip. His head follows the ball as it rolls past before he examines his cleats and adjusts his position to "crisscross applesauce". He soon becomes disinterested in the events of the field, beginning to pound on his chest with his fists in a silly way. But oh no! Blue team scores and little 8's hands fly to his head in anguish. The coaches switch players and little 8 is subbed in now, playing defense on the right side. He skips up the length of the field, his cleats clicking together as he waits for the ball to come to him.
His hands go into his shorts again as he watches the game from his side of the field. He listens to the instructions that his coach yells to him and runs into the fray of little players as they fight for the ball. Little 8 hops like a wiggly monkey and struggles a bit before kicking the ball up the field. His teammates take the ball and he jumps high with excitement as they score a goal. He watches the players with his hands in his pockets, skipping back and forth on the side of the field farthest away from the action. He jumps for joy when a blue player sends the ball rolling out of bounds instead of into his goal.
Little 8 takes position for the goal kick and boots the ball up the sideline, his face twisted with the effort of sending it into the clump of players. Later, he skips his way after the ball when it rolls past him, making a kick at it but missing. The other team scores and little 8 puts his fists on his hips in exasperation. It’s the end of the quarter and the two teams, green and blue, talk with their coaches as they rehydrate and rest.
The ref, about fifteen with bright whitish blond hair, absently juggle kicks the miniature sized soccer ball in the center of the field while he waits. His banana yellow uniform stands out against the grassy green field. Checking his watch, he blows the whistle, signaling its time for the next quarter.
And green scores! Little 8 watches from the sidelines, appearing somewhat bored despite the excitement of the field. He picks at the grass now, hardly interested in the things going on around him. He slumps with boredness and cups his hands to his face, blowing pieces of grass from them that he’d just picked. He catches sight of his other teammates on the sidelines and jumps up to join them in a game of “boot kick pass”.
Meanwhile, the little kids in the game argue about who has possession of the ball after it goes out of bounds. 22 on blue angrily claims to a green player that it’s blue’s ball. Little 8 is substituted back in. He races amongst the other little people until the ball goes out of bounds and he must throw it in. With some help from the coach, he arches, and flings the ball over his head and back into play. Little 8 runs ahead to wait for a pass from his chicken fluff haired teammate. Little 8, Canyon or Canny as I have heard from the spectators as they cheer him on, kicks the ball out of bounds.
The ref has to explain to a blue player how to do a corner kick and is hit with the first kick. The ref chuckles and the crowd along with him before the kid accomplishes a retry. Canny throws his hands into the air several times, signaling in a basketball like way that he is “overhere”. He does a goal kick, panting from the exercise and running around the field. The ref blows the whistle and signals another half. The tired little munchkins drink thirstily from their water bottles, catching their breaths and listening to their coaches prep them again.
Canny sits to the side, playing with grass again, his feathery haired friend by his side.
The new half starts, the teams playing on different sides of the field now, and the ref blows the whistle. The little kids hustle after the ball, their little legs pedaling as fast as they can. One kid kicks it into the belly of another kid, the victim clutching his belly in shock. He gets over it quickly though, and the game goes on.
Little 8 and his buddies on the sideline gleefully goof off and play leap frog. Little 8 takes a drink from his blue metal water container before running to join his pals in a game of chase. They are completely unaware and carefree of the game going on in which a player just lost his shoe. The teams are called in to sub players. Little 8 and his buddies are now on the field. Canny races to the ball to defend his goal, a slight confusion on whose goal is whose after the switch.
Canny kicks the ball in a corner kick, skipping after the ball he sends spinning. Canny sets up and kicks another corner kick after the ball goes out of bounds. Little 8 distractedly pats his head and strolls around the field afterwards before suddenly remembering the game. Canny races towards the opposing team’s goal along with his teammates but the ball goes out of bounds. Canny pants and swings his arms tiredly, his energy seeming to be depleted. He kicks the grass absently before the ball goes into play again.
One kid belches loudly. Then the kids are called off the field to switch players again. The green team or the Creepers from what I have heard, struggle to kick the ball away from the blue. As the low key game goes on, the sun begins to peek through the grey clouds, slightly warming the cool air. The little players continue to tussle on the field for the ball.
And green scores! The little Creepers on the sidelines, including little 8, kick and race around after one of their balls. The game goes on, frantic kicks and inexpierenced dribbles all the while. A tiny player about three feet tall aggressively chases and orders the other players around despite his size. And it’s the end of the game! A long drawn out series of whistles from the ref signals this.
The little kids cheer for the opposing teams and form lines to high five each other as the parents set up to form a victory tunnel. The kids race through it joyfully with huge grins of triumph on their faces. Parents and family cheer them on and some kids rush to make a second round through the tunnel. The little soccer players go back to retrieve snacks from their coaches when the tunnel breaks apart and the parents pack up their chairs and blankets to head home. Their kids race to greet them, jabbering excitedly about the game and how they played. The parents lead their kids away, proud and happy smiles on all their faces. Little 8 skips giddily to greet his mother.
A young boy, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his caramel colored hair from under his neon green jersey, attempts to roll the ball into the goal with his hands when he thinks no one is looking. He skips as he runs when it's his turn in line again, performing a little leap as he sends the ball gently rolling into the goal. Soon it's time for the ref to do an equipment check and the young boy, his limbs gangly and thin, lines up on the center line with his teammates now, listening to his coaches talk to them about the game.
But they cannot hold his small attention span for long and he turns and watches the opposing team with great interest, his curious eyes moving to watch the ref next as he talks with them. His attention returns to his team when they are called into a huddle. He chatters about some things with his coach and pals, standing with his hands in the pockets of his black soccer shorts. In the team huddle the young children fidget with tireless energy. One coach kneels before them, discussing strategy that their young minds are most likely soon to forget.
And the ref signals that it is time for the game to start. The little boy's team head to their side of the field now, settling in among their water bottles and soccer bags. The coaches debate which four kids they should put in to play first. Numbers 26, 48, 6, and 83 for the green team are in and the game starts. The little boy, number 8, sits on the sideline watching his buddies kick the ball back and forth, rocking with excitement.
He watches the game, his eyes narrowed as he bites his bottom lip. His head follows the ball as it rolls past before he examines his cleats and adjusts his position to "crisscross applesauce". He soon becomes disinterested in the events of the field, beginning to pound on his chest with his fists in a silly way. But oh no! Blue team scores and little 8's hands fly to his head in anguish. The coaches switch players and little 8 is subbed in now, playing defense on the right side. He skips up the length of the field, his cleats clicking together as he waits for the ball to come to him.
His hands go into his shorts again as he watches the game from his side of the field. He listens to the instructions that his coach yells to him and runs into the fray of little players as they fight for the ball. Little 8 hops like a wiggly monkey and struggles a bit before kicking the ball up the field. His teammates take the ball and he jumps high with excitement as they score a goal. He watches the players with his hands in his pockets, skipping back and forth on the side of the field farthest away from the action. He jumps for joy when a blue player sends the ball rolling out of bounds instead of into his goal.
Little 8 takes position for the goal kick and boots the ball up the sideline, his face twisted with the effort of sending it into the clump of players. Later, he skips his way after the ball when it rolls past him, making a kick at it but missing. The other team scores and little 8 puts his fists on his hips in exasperation. It’s the end of the quarter and the two teams, green and blue, talk with their coaches as they rehydrate and rest.
The ref, about fifteen with bright whitish blond hair, absently juggle kicks the miniature sized soccer ball in the center of the field while he waits. His banana yellow uniform stands out against the grassy green field. Checking his watch, he blows the whistle, signaling its time for the next quarter.
And green scores! Little 8 watches from the sidelines, appearing somewhat bored despite the excitement of the field. He picks at the grass now, hardly interested in the things going on around him. He slumps with boredness and cups his hands to his face, blowing pieces of grass from them that he’d just picked. He catches sight of his other teammates on the sidelines and jumps up to join them in a game of “boot kick pass”.
Meanwhile, the little kids in the game argue about who has possession of the ball after it goes out of bounds. 22 on blue angrily claims to a green player that it’s blue’s ball. Little 8 is substituted back in. He races amongst the other little people until the ball goes out of bounds and he must throw it in. With some help from the coach, he arches, and flings the ball over his head and back into play. Little 8 runs ahead to wait for a pass from his chicken fluff haired teammate. Little 8, Canyon or Canny as I have heard from the spectators as they cheer him on, kicks the ball out of bounds.
The ref has to explain to a blue player how to do a corner kick and is hit with the first kick. The ref chuckles and the crowd along with him before the kid accomplishes a retry. Canny throws his hands into the air several times, signaling in a basketball like way that he is “overhere”. He does a goal kick, panting from the exercise and running around the field. The ref blows the whistle and signals another half. The tired little munchkins drink thirstily from their water bottles, catching their breaths and listening to their coaches prep them again.
Canny sits to the side, playing with grass again, his feathery haired friend by his side.
The new half starts, the teams playing on different sides of the field now, and the ref blows the whistle. The little kids hustle after the ball, their little legs pedaling as fast as they can. One kid kicks it into the belly of another kid, the victim clutching his belly in shock. He gets over it quickly though, and the game goes on.
Little 8 and his buddies on the sideline gleefully goof off and play leap frog. Little 8 takes a drink from his blue metal water container before running to join his pals in a game of chase. They are completely unaware and carefree of the game going on in which a player just lost his shoe. The teams are called in to sub players. Little 8 and his buddies are now on the field. Canny races to the ball to defend his goal, a slight confusion on whose goal is whose after the switch.
Canny kicks the ball in a corner kick, skipping after the ball he sends spinning. Canny sets up and kicks another corner kick after the ball goes out of bounds. Little 8 distractedly pats his head and strolls around the field afterwards before suddenly remembering the game. Canny races towards the opposing team’s goal along with his teammates but the ball goes out of bounds. Canny pants and swings his arms tiredly, his energy seeming to be depleted. He kicks the grass absently before the ball goes into play again.
One kid belches loudly. Then the kids are called off the field to switch players again. The green team or the Creepers from what I have heard, struggle to kick the ball away from the blue. As the low key game goes on, the sun begins to peek through the grey clouds, slightly warming the cool air. The little players continue to tussle on the field for the ball.
And green scores! The little Creepers on the sidelines, including little 8, kick and race around after one of their balls. The game goes on, frantic kicks and inexpierenced dribbles all the while. A tiny player about three feet tall aggressively chases and orders the other players around despite his size. And it’s the end of the game! A long drawn out series of whistles from the ref signals this.
The little kids cheer for the opposing teams and form lines to high five each other as the parents set up to form a victory tunnel. The kids race through it joyfully with huge grins of triumph on their faces. Parents and family cheer them on and some kids rush to make a second round through the tunnel. The little soccer players go back to retrieve snacks from their coaches when the tunnel breaks apart and the parents pack up their chairs and blankets to head home. Their kids race to greet them, jabbering excitedly about the game and how they played. The parents lead their kids away, proud and happy smiles on all their faces. Little 8 skips giddily to greet his mother.