The weekend sleep-in, every Parent’s dream, thwarted by their Offspring’s innate desire to compete with others, chasing a damn ball around a grassy field in hot pursuit of fun. Proudly showing off all skills learned during the mid-week practice.
The Sideliners – a mish-mash of Parental personalities, collective teeth chattering in the biting winter’s breeze. Frosty fingers seeking solace around a toasty cup of go-juice as black as tar.
A rabble of rowdies, ensconced at one end, a boisterous bunch of knowledgeable beasts who claim to know better than the ref, who tread an extremely fine line of what is considered acceptable. Immunity to all glares a must.
There is the Stoic – They would rather be anywhere but there but will come at all costs to show Parental support. A type of side-line loner. Approach at your own risk.
The Gossips – A gaggle of all people cheerful. Only there to be social. A great place to catch up on the weekly snippets and the sharing of news fact or fictional.
Parental Pushers – The ones who think their child who is better than the rest and should be playing a grade at least one higher. Their aspirations are higher than the child’s own goals; these types live voraciously through their offspring.
The collective bray of those above adding to the cacophony of the sport being played.
A round robin of various sporting pursuits atop a field of grass. Bodies arranging from the tiny tykes with more uniform than the body and voluminous not so short shorts to all types adult where a game is serious indeed.
A thweep of a half-time whistle, Tupperware containers revealing oranges and the sweet nectar that is cordial.
Play continues uniforms turning colours that could only be described as camouflage, a light rain falls, what was grass is now mud, players sporting a patch marking the spot for each and every splat.
Play finally over, all players spent. The final elongated thweep of the whistle. A mandatory handshake of sportsmanship for every player. A pat on the back for a game well done.
A stop for a well-earned choc dipped ice-cream on the way home or for the more aged several bevies made from hops will most certainly do.
Later on in the day, various lines are festooned with rows of sporting shirts flapping in the breeze pegged by the name on top of the roster for a play that week.
Greasies at night for an easy dinner. Game play commiserated, regaled and exaggerated.
The thweep of the whistle and the roar of the crowd are now a ghostly memory.
The sporting fields now lay bare but most certainly are showing signs of wear, giving the ever-suffering Groundskeeper conniptions and using words best not to hear.
The culmination of careful cultivation led to the fields being pristine. Thanks to the action of rain and multitudes of feet they are all muddy again.
The field to the right once was the Groundskeeper’s dream is all patchy making him scream.
The weapon that is orange tape meaning out of bounds, rendering several fields useless, now there is not enough grounds. Games will be canceled, revenue to be found to pay for the use other people’s grounds.
There is a problem for us; a solution needs to be found, for this problem that occurs all year round. The fields are too busy there needs to be a product that lasts. How about Artificial Grass?
It is low maintenance; no rest required, will generate income from teams that hire. It will pay for itself in a few years so the upfront costs won’t seem to be too dear. No messy play, better things to do than trying to soak filthy uniforms all day. It has the same performance as natural grass. What are you doing still sitting there? Give Eco-Lawn a blast. Developed for intensive use this grass is built to last.
Do your playing fields (and Club) deserve the Eco-Lawn touch?