The referee halts the game and you sprint over towards the sidelines. Your team huddles around the coach, who is preaching the importance of always passing the ball to the open man, even if it’s “Jimmy in the corner”. Poor lil “Jimmy in the Corner” might as well have been sitting on the field making whistles out of grass blades the entire game. He didn’t want to be there, but still had to play the minimum time required for each player by A.Y.S.O. Sure he cost the team an average of 1.2 goals per game, but losing alongside Jimmy in the Corner was tolerated especially for games like today. According to the printout on the fridge, today was Jimmy’s mom’s turn to bring the halftime snacks…
Coach kept droning on with his speech, but the rest of you guys kept an eye out for Jimmy’s mom, except for Jimmy… who had his eyes closed, wearing a slightly mischievous grin while periodically wetting his lips with excitement over the Snickers bar that he made his mom promise to bring just for him…
You scan the sea of parents one more time, then you see her!
Jimmy’s mom gracefully struts towards the huddle carrying the usual small Coleman ice box, and a large Tupperware container.
Oh my God!
You glance back at Jimmy, then to his mom, then back at Jimmy, who’s still in the same state as before, except now he’s pinching the tips of his ears for some reason. You haven’t seen too many beautiful women in your young life, (just last week, you went to the public library and caught your first glimpse of a young Tyra Banks in a pink polka dot bikini on the cover of Sports Illustrated a.k.a. the greatest swimsuit edition cover ever) but something in your small developing brain tells you that Jimmy’s mom belongs in the same conversation as Tyra, as you wonder how it was possible for that Butterball to come out of her.
God works in mysterious ways…
Jimmy must have picked up on his mom’s scent. He opens his eyes…
“SNAAAACKS!” Jimmy screams as he runs over to his mom and pickpockets the Snickers from the back pocket of her tight jeans.
The whole team can’t help but be mesmerized by her soccer field catwalk. Even the dads watching the game have to use stealth peripheral vision to catch a glimpse, for fear of receiving death stares and suffering through another a long night of the unending “is THAT what you WANT?!”
You can see that our visitor has made even our intense coach, who was recently divorced, visibly shaken.
“Uh, team! This is Jimmy’s mom. Say hello to Miss–Miss Parker!”
“Hiiiii Miss Parrrkerrr!
“These orange wedges taste amazing, Miss Parrrkerrr!”
“I’m glad you enjoy them boys! Jimmy hun, can you hand out the drinks to your teammates?”
Jimmy pops off the top of the cooler as a hoard of sticky hands dive in to grab the expected Capri Sun. Jimmy successfully records his only assist of the season.
“Thanks for the Capri Suns, Miss Parrrkerrr!
“You’re very welcome boys!”
A.Y.S.O. halftimes were one of the rare occasions during elementary school where praising the of glory of fruit was acceptable in front of your friends.
ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS! Especially when they were prepared and served by Miss Parker!
P.S. This is Jimmy’s mom:
P.P.S. If you grew up in the hood, you might have encountered the complete opposite of Jimmy’s mom: The Cholo Soccer Dad.