El Diablo

At the end of the school year, the boys were becoming gross, pale Basement People. Only emerging from their video game hovel to eat hot cheese snacks and recoil from the sun. My plan of unfulfilled threats wasn’t working, so we signed them up for organized sports. 

Elijah attended flag football camp (more on that in a future post) and Luca was a double threat of track and soccer. I have no idea what happened in track, as events occurred during the week. So make up your own HamannEggs post. I’ll get you started: “Luca’s desire to be in track sure did lead to something funny…”

Although Diana and I were vaccinated, Luca and his team were not, so the league took extra precautions. The kids were required to wear masks at all times (although most wore theirs in a jaunty, under the nose style) and they had to play the same opponent every game of the season. 

I was worried at first because playing the same team every week seemed mighty boring and my entertainment is really all that matters. But the teams were evenly matched and every week was a barn burner. Except the first couple games, where the kid, all still suffering from Basement People Syndrome, were gassed by the first quarter. 

It was a ready-made rivalry and we got to know the members of the opposite team as well as Luca’s. We knew the kids whose parents forced them to be there, the kids who were kind of jerks, and quickly learned who the studs were. Namely, El Diablo.

El Diablo was amazing. This kid could score a goal from the parking lot. He could literally Bend it Like Beckham. He was the fastest, toughest, most accurate kid on the field at all times. He had a humble attitude of an athlete who was playing a completely different game than anyone else. 

Every time the Luca’s team would go up by a score or two, the opponents’ coach would give El Diablo a look that said, “Whenever you’re ready” and the kid would blast a goal through the back of the net and into Wisconsin. Thankfully for everyone (and my attention span) the coach would only deploy El Diablo sparingly.

As Story Writing 101 would have it, the last game of the season had both teams tied. Luca was positively electric. Not only because Diana said, “If you don’t score a goal, don’t bother coming home.”

The game was delightfully tight and they entered the final period tied. That’s when the opponent’s coach did the unthinkable: he put El Diablo in goal. El Diablo was amazing at any position, but it was bizarre to put your howitzer so far behind enemy lines. I truly respected the coach’s sportsmanship and wanted him to pay dearly for it.

With seconds left in the game, Luca had a breakaway with the ball and was one on one against El Diablo. I began bellowing like an injured water buffalo. “Errrrooooooo! Luuuuuuucaaa! Bloooorgh! HamannEggs Storyyyyyyyy!” 

Luca fired a shot with all his might. A beautiful laser that streaked across the field. And careened off the goal post. The “clunk” was deafening, but the crowd cheered his almost amazing play. We parents gave each other smiles and knowing nods, content with the fact that this wonderful rivalry would end in a tie.

But then Luca’s teammate scooped up the rebound and scored on El Diablo. Haha! Take that, kid who is great at his sport!

Luca was thrilled and celebrated by going to the basement to play videogames.