Soccer threatens American beliefs, lives
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February 10, 2009 • Caleb Nyberg
Filed under Opinion
Note to our readers: Satire is the use of irony, sarcasm, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc. We are providing this definition for our readers so they will better understand this story.
America. Just the sound of the word makes one swell with pride. It conjures up images of brave men, beautiful women and all that is good and right in the world.
However, the welfare of this great nation is being put at risk by a force more insidious, more dastardly, more maleficent than the likes of communism, terrorism and Democrats combined. It is creeping its way like a mold, under the clean carpet of justice and releasing its poisonous spores into the pure, vulnerable lungs of freedom and equality.
I see now, your palms sweating, your heart pounding in your chest as you ask yourself, what? What is this thing he is speaking of? Well, I will tell you.
It is soccer.
It can begin at a young age. You are at the store, and your kid wants a soccer ball. So, being a good parent, you buy it for them, right? Innocently it starts, your little tyke kicking around in the park, or in the back yard with friends.
But a few scuffed walls, smashed vases and squashed pets later, you begin to question whether it was such a good idea in the first place. You ignore the problem, hoping it will go away on its own.
It does not.
Soon they are clamoring for camps, jerseys and cleats.
Oh, the cleats.
Before you know it, they are watching soccer videos on YouTube, sneaking out to get tattoos like “Soccer 4 Life”, and then, you walk in on little Timmy saying his prayers. To Pele.
However, now it is too late.
Your kids are gone five, six days a week, kicking balls with kids you do not know, on fields you have never been to, in countries whose names you can’t even pronounce without spitting.
You wish you could go back, and undo that first fatal mistake. But it is too late now. They have given themselves over wholeheartedly to soccer.
You may think, hey, it is only a few months in the fall, right?
Well, my friend, evil never sleeps. When your children are not playing at school, they will be playing indoor soccer during the winter, and club members play all times in between.
Not to mention the myriad soccer camps they will be attending at all four corners of the globe.
Soccer will stop for no weather, no season; its task to destroy the youth of this great nation is a never-ending quest.
With all of this non-stop soccer, when will kids have time to do anything else? Imagine how happy they will be when they no longer have time for such frivolities as doing homework, being with friends or sleeping.
They will also miss out on the more important things, like girls, fishing trips and whittling. They can literally be playing soccer so much that they drop dead from all of the joy.
My own brother is in so deep, I do not know if he is even still alive.
I have not seen him in months. If you have, please call me; our parents are worried.
I live in Central Oregon, the soccer capital of the nation, and I have seen too many families succumb to this athletic demise.
Family, the greatest of the alabaster pillars of American values is now being soiled shamelessly by mud and grass stains.
Family, the holiest of unions, from which we draw our love, morals, and support, is being torn apart like a bear with a meat piñata.
First come the practices, just a few hours everyday after school. Next come games, just once or twice a week, in convenient locations at least three hours away.
Next come tournaments, and before you realize it, you do not even recognize that thing that smells like grass and sleeps in your son’s room. And he too has forgotten your name, and now instead refers to his coach as father.
And let us not forget about church. Is your son there, bonding with his siblings, mimicking the preacher, or shooting spit wads at the frizzy haired choir director? No. He is off at the unholy Temple of Turf, offering up burnt sacrifices to the heathen gods of the Black and White Checkered Orb, while the other children suffer silently through their service, like good Americans. Dutifully upholding what little is left of their shattered home.
And do you think that all of this disunity is free? No, you have to pay dearly for the destruction of your way of life.
Whether it is the newest jersey, titanium-infused shin guards or that pair of SuperSpike UltraKick 2000s with a four figure price tag, gear can be costly.
Not to mention that your teen is growing faster than the population of China, meaning you’ll have to replace all of this every, say, six weeks.
However, gear is not all. Every weekend your children will have to play in some far away city, leaving you to foot the bill for food and lodging.
And then come tournaments, in such exotic locations as Hawaii, Sweden and the Ukraine.
Even club memberships are costly, some demanding up to two thousand dollars per year.
Soon, your athletic child will look like a posh, jet setting Beckham, while the other children are forced to dress in burlap and eat cardboard for dinner.
This is only if your budding athlete has any talent.
If they do not you can be sure they will require numerous camps, clinics and “Special Development Programs”, to aid them in getting their A-Game on.
And sooner or later, your child is going to grievously injure themselves, like any good player. Whether it is a broken leg, pulled groin, injured knee, sprained ankle, twisted ankle, rolled ankle, broken ankle, separated ankle, swollen ankle, torn ligament in the ankle, lacerated ankle or fractured ankle, the possibilities are endless.
No doubt all of these injuries will require such frivolities as icepacks, bandages and painkillers galore. At the end of all of this, your wallet will look like the inside of the Federal Reserve: abysmally empty.
In these dark times we need not look to the economy, global warming or war as the greatest threats to our nation.
You must only look as far as that six year old wearing the Brazil jersey to see where the problem really lies.
So I urge you, rest your arm on something steady, as I make a lengthy toast. I raise my fork, sewing needle, cactus or other various and sundry pointy object used to destroy inflatable sports gear, and offer a toast to the destruction of this evil parasite, consuming our nation.
I hope that one day all of our eyes will be opened and to see this threat, and to stop our nation from succumbing to a dark fate that is wearing shin guards.
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