One common theme accampanies any events where adults are thrown together- be it the court, bleachers, auditorium, pew, etc...

The common theme- nothing is good enough: schedules, coaches, teachers, other parents' kids, ministers, clerks, and on and on. The old favorites that have been around for a millennium like politicians, weathermen, and mailmen are still on the ever-growing and crowded list.

How can anyone not become disillusioned with life with the constant bombardment going on?

Last spring, I was amazed at how supportive the parents were at a youth soccer game. There were the usual calls of support and cheers, nothing unusual except one loud voice that boomed out of no where every five minutes.

This soccer dad was siiting in his car about 10 yards away from the bleachers. He demonstrated his knowledge and total enthusiasm for the game by unrolling his window and yelling advice.

"Center the ball!"

"Get moving!"

"Move your feet!"

After the game this Dad came up to wait with the rest of the parents as our kids were given the after-game announcements and snacks.

Now that HE was among us, I, for one, felt awed by his powerful presence. Of course, he did not know me, so he did not need to look my way.

"It was zero-zero, right."

The Dad he chose to talk to said, "Yep."

"I don't understand why the coach doesn't teach 'em to center the ball."

No one said anything.

He repeated, "We have to pass the ball to the center to score. We never score."

"Nope," a Dad replied. "We haven't scored in the past two weeks."

"You have to teach passing in soccer or you are not going to score."

Everyone, myself included, nodded and grunted in agreement. Yes, you have to score to win.

At that moment our eight year olds came rushing across the field, each with a snack cake, fruit drink, and a mile-wide smile.

Our small band of parents walked off their happy children.

Mr. Center the Ball did not have a happy look, tossing the snack cake in a garbage can and dumping the fruit drink on the ground. As he drove away, he smashed the plastic container.

"I guess he doesn't believe in extra sugar for his kid," I said.