Chapter 1: Meet Sean Porter

You wonder, sometimes, how you get yourself into situations like these. Looking back, I have to believe that, somewhere along the timeline of my life, I was led to this point, that I would be here no matter how I led my life. But I digress...

Flash back to 1980. At that time, I was a fifteen-year-old jock, having spent the past several years honing my skills on sandlot baseball fields. At some point during the previous year, I caught the soccer fever that was just beginning to grip the American landscape. By the end of that summer I was playing on two teams, and earning a little side money as a youth referee. Since they had some trouble getting enough qualified adults to be referees, I had the chance to work games played by older kids than I otherwise would have been allowed to referee.

Typically, I would be a referee for the real young ones, say six to eight years old. These kids would play what I liked to refer to as "swarm-ball". Every kid on the field, except the designated goalkeeper, would swarm to the ball like bees around a hive. No matter where it was on the field, they would kick at the thing as if it were a biting dog, all the time laughing, shouting, and having absolutely no idea where it was going to go next. The coaches and parents, meanwhile, would be screaming on the sidelines, as if the sheer weight of their voices would make little Kimmie or Matthew suddenly do a bicycle kick like Pele and score the game-winning goal.

A couple of times that year, I was given a game with older kids, usually in the under-fourteen girl's division. These kids were usually fairly new to the game also, but they were a lot more coordinated in their athletic abilities. The older players could see how a play could develop, so they tended to play positions a little better than the young ones. Their games were a lot more fun to officiate, and the girls were a lot more fun for a perpetually horny fifteen-year-old guy to watch running up and down the field.

A lot of these kids were the little sisters of friends of mine, so I knew a lot of their names. On the soccer field, though, I began seeing them as individuals, instead of as that annoying kid who was trying to hang around with us older guys. At the first of these games that I officiated, I could see groups of girls huddled together, glancing over at me before the game started, talking and giggling. I thought of myself as an official however, and acknowledging that I knew some of them was beneath my dignity. During the inspection and instruction prior to the game, as I checked cleats and shin guards, a couple of the girls that I knew softly said hi to me, almost embarrassed to know me.

As the game progressed, I forgot about who they were and concentrated on the play. Some of the girls had been playing for several years, and others were just learning the fundamentals. Nearly all of them, regardless of skills or experience, played enthusiastically, and played hard. It was kind of a revelation to me to see these kids running hard up and down the field, heads down, shoulders and hips and feet fighting for possession of the ball, and sweating. Not "glowing", not perspiring, but honest-to-God, hard- work sweating. My estimation of their commitment to athletics climbed, and I decided then and there that I would never again think of them as annoying little kids.

I learned a lot about those kids that day, and learned a little about myself, too.

I didn't have any idea then, of course, but I had a lot more that I would learn about them... and me.