What is it about that goal net?

As I descended down the driveway, I noticed Jack wandering back aimlessly from the letterbox in deep thought.

"Hi Jack, How's it going mate?"
"Good" came the rather unconvincing reply.
"You sure mate?"
"Yep".

I no sooner hit the front step and I almost get bowled down like a ten pin as the door fly's open. "Hi Honey","bye Honey", "bye Dad, I love you".

"Hey wait a minute where are you two going?" "I told you yesterday John, Jess has to go for her final fitting for the bridesmaids dress". "There are some left-overs from last night for you and Jack in the fridge, bye".

"Oh well, just us men tonight hey Jackie boy?" I say as I tickle my seven year olds tummy.
"Yep" came the reply.
"Mate, are you sure everything's O.K?"
"Yep".
If there is one thing I know about my son, it is that after three Yep's in a row, everything is NOT O.K.

To find out what was bugging Mini me was obviously going to take a little bit of investigative work.

"How was School today pal?" Thinking, chances are something has happened there today that has upset him. "Pretty good" was his quick response. Two words in a row hey, now I am really starting to break through here.
"What did you do there today", I enquired. "Oh, just the usual stuff". The usual stuff hey.The private investigator in me seemed to think that this was a benign enough sort of answer.
"Who's your best friend these day's mate?" I bet that's what it is, he has had some kind of bust up with his best mate Peter again. "Peter, you know that dad" he said with a puzzled look on his face.

Frustrated, I soldiered on.
"Jess hasn't been teasing you again has she Jack" I asked. "Nup" came his technical response.
"So how was Soccer practice this afternoon?" Then there was silence, followed by a quick shrug of the shoulders. Finally, I knew I was getting close to the Holy Grail.
"You had a good time at Soccer didn't you Jack, I know how much you love it?" I offered.

"THE COACH SAID I HAVE TO BE GOALIE ON SATURDAY".

Suddenly my heart sank as I felt the blood rush to my head. Starting to fidget I replied "but I thought it wasn't your turn for about another three weeks".
"Its not, but because there are so many kids away on School camp, I have to fill in".

You see, apart from his rugged good looks, something else that Jack also inherited from his dad is what I like to call white line fever.

We spend countless hours in the back yard practicing goal keeping, and he is simply sensational, but as soon as he stands in front of that little net on game day it is as if he just jumped off the last space shuttle from Mars.

I even bought him his very own Soccer net and gloves to try to simulate game day conditions, but nothing works. The backyard is fine, he will throw himself around like some kind of Olympic Diving gold medallist, but once he is charged with protecting that net on game day, it is as if they are firing scud missiles at him.

As for me, I spend the longest 40 minutes of my week, ten yards to the right of him, hoping that every kid that is approaching him with ball on toe has some kind of involuntary muscle spasm just before he launches the ball in OUR direction. I mean, I know it sounds cruel, but put yourself in my shoes. When you are the parent of the goalie, that tiny little net suddenly appears as though it is wide enough to park a Boeing 747 inside it.

I mean, the poor little beggar is only seven years old for crying out loud, "Can't we get someone over here to measure this thing?"
"Can someone do a head count of the opposition. I am sure that they have more than eleven players on the field?"
"Isn't it half time yet? It's got to be, surely?"
"Hey ref ,do you need a loan of my watch?"
"That kid can't possibly be seven years old"
"Hey Pam look at the size of this kid coming at us now, he has to be on steroids"
"John, shut up"

As Pam was driving us home that afternoon, after a courageous but unlucky 4-0 defeat, she turned to me and asked "Is everything O.K. John?" to which I replied, "Yep".