Humor by John Christmann
Behind The Soccer Ball
Dear Abby:
I was party to an unfortunate incident at my daughter’s soccer match over the weekend.
In the community where I live parents convivially mingle on the sidelines, often standing in groups or sitting in portable canvas folding chairs to root for their children. Although parents can get emotionally involved in the children’s play on the field, in my experience they are always respectful and supportive of everyone involved in the game.
In fact, it is one of the few events involving parents where everyone has fun without drinking beer.
But occasionally an incident occurs that provokes poor sportsmanship by an adult on the sideline. So at each game one parent is designated as a SAGE representative. SAGE stands for “Set A Good Example”, and it is considered by the soccer league as a consideration for considerate adults to be remain considerate.
At my daughter’s game I was the designated SAGE parent, and I was given a large identification badge to wear around my neck like cardboard bling. The way I looked at it, I was essentially the Behavior Police for a bunch of nice people who really don’t need policing.
During the exciting game, I kept hearing the loud voice of a young, rambunctious boy running wildly around his mother. From the comfort of her chair the mom tried to minimize the distraction her young son was causing by shushing him and cajoling him to sit still and watch the game. Eventually he responded by rolling around on the grass.
I didn’t think much about it until a minor injury to one of our players stopped the game and instantly silenced the cheering adults on the sideline.
The small boy, who was now lying face up underneath his mother’s canvas folding chair, yelled at the top of his lungs, “Wow mom, your butt is really big!”
As a SAGE representative I felt it was my duty to preserve some dignity for the mortified mom because, well, we all know that parents can get out of hand at soccer matches and sometimes demonstrate poor sportsmanship.
I considered a number of possible responses to this embarrassing outburst.
Response 1.
I could smile and shake my head in recognition of the awkward situation, then turn to the mom and tell her in a voice everyone could hear about the time on a long plane ride when my young son stood up in the seat and announced to the cabin that I wore pink underwear.
This would potentially diffuse the situation by highlighting the common experience among parents of being embarrassed by our children. However, it would also bring into question why I was wearing pink boxers on an airplane to San Francisco. (It was the washing machine, I swear.)
Response 2.
I could offer up a polite disclaimer, something like how those canvas folding chairs are so narrow and with the material anyone’s bottom would loom large as viewed at close range from the ground, kind of like how a full moon looks bigger when it sits on the horizon, of course I am not implying your bottom is as big as the moon but only that if it was as big as the moon it might look bigger than it really is—which is really not big at all—especially if I was staring at it from six inches . . .
I wasn’t sure I could pull this one off.
Response 3.
I could authoritatively disprove the assertion by walking around to the back of the chair, getting on my hands and knees, and announcing to the surrounding adults as a fully sanctioned SAGE parent, “Her butt doesn’t look so big to me.”
But that really wouldn’t be setting a good example, now would it.
Response 4.
I could say nothing, essentially leaving the unfortunate metaphor of a 300 pound gorilla hanging in the air to be mulled over with great imagination by tongue-biting parents on the sideline, and risk the possibility that some insensitive idiot would soon start laughing out loud.
Response 5.
I could react involuntarily by spewing the Diet Coke I was drinking out my nose and doubling over in laughter, thereby causing parents nearby to snicker loudly and still others to ask what was so funny until the situation was relayed up and down the sideline and everyone was laughing uncontrollably, including the woman with the alleged big bottom, who I discovered later was president of the soccer league, the same league from which I have just been issued a warning about improper behavior on the sideline.
Abby, my question is this: Does my butt look big to you and am I the only one who thinks this is funny?
Dear Dad In The Box:
Yes. Pink underwear you say?
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