Hello, my name is AQ and I am a soccer mom

Another Saturday, another soccer game. It was supposed to be the last, but they've rescheduled the one that was rained out ... I've got one more weekend left before diving into neglected garden chores.

Shank met us for lunch. He'd promised to come watch Sport play at least one game before the end of the season, and although The Collatress wanted to come too, she had to work. Shank helped carry the necessary soccer paraphernalia: sunscreen, a basket of snacks for the team, insulated bag of drinks, a blanket, and, with artless grace, a pink parasol.

Parked on the top row of the aluminum bleachers, my bottom nestled cozily on a bit of "cushy" (folded blanket), I settled in to watch the game. By now I know all of Team Wizard's names: no more reading a book when my kid isn't playing. I'm yelling out words of encouragement and advice along with the rest of the parents:

"Sam, watch the line!"

"Be aggressive, Chad!"

"Taylor, take it down!"

Shank turned to me in surprise. "Jeez, you are totally a soccer mom."

Much as I hate to admit it, I am, and I've got the mini-van to prove it. Last season, I found myself completely losing it when Sport's team failed to score any goals. He had somehow ended up on the worst team, filled with players who were new to the game -- children who had no idea what they were doing. It was frustrating to watch my kid try to play just about every position the entire 45 minutes. I turned into a raving, slobbering loon. I remember giving Sport some ridiculous strategy on how to play the next game, jaw clenched in rage, before I caught myself.

What was I thinking, anyway? Why was it so important to me that his sad excuse for a soccer team win?

Humans are hardwired to be competitive. It's there in the genes: win at all costs, no matter what kind of activity you're taking part in: mammoth hunting, house-building, pin the tail on the donkey. Win, win, win!

Unnerved by Shank's observation, I tried to limit my benchside coaching to an occasional low groan and bitten lip. Cringing under my pink parasol, I even managed to reduce the number of spoke pokes to the heads of Shank and LegoGuy. Eventually, Sport broke through the other team's defense and made a dramatic goal. The Wizards shook off their slump and ended it, 2-1.

I wish I could say I wouldn't have minded if they'd lost. But it's so much better to win.