Game Days

I will not be apple picking this weekend. I won't be tackling the chaos of our closets either. Instead, I'll be camped out on the sideline of multiple soccer games, iced coffee in one hand, pom-pom in the other.

I'm kidding about the pom-pom, but now that I think about it, a big foam "Number One!" finger might be fun. I think there's a business opportunity here.

Fields are packed with parents and fans, sometimes for 4 hours (or more!) on a weekend. Imagine the swift sales a hot dog cart might do -- "Bottled water, foam fingers, get your peanuts here!" – or a stall selling hand-knit blankets for the extra chilly days, or umbrellas, or better yet, balloon animals for bored little brothers.

Hordes of families will swamp football fields and baseball diamonds and soccer pitches this weekend for a game schedule so daunting even a personal assistant would get confused. One car goes that way, another this way, socks and uniforms are flung every which way, and it's a wonder anyone makes it anywhere on time.

Imagine if there were sandwich truck conveniently parked near the sidelines. I see a major moneymaker. (A martini stand wouldn't be half-bad either, though I suppose it doesn't send the right message; plus it's more of a spiked cider kind of season.) These sporting weekends have many benefits, and not just for the scores of athletes, or the potential entrepreneurs.

Want to meet the new friend in your child's class? There she is -- number 17 or is she 22? It's hard to tell with all the ponytails bouncing around out there. Haven't seen a friend or neighbor in a while? You'll probably bump into her at a game, your catching-up interrupted every so often with a "woohoo!" or a "great job!" (However, if you have a son, and your friend has a daughter, don't expect to see that person anytime soon. The sideline social life is definitely divided on gender lines.)

Obviously, the chitchat at half time and the foam fingers are not what these weekends are all about. Anyone who's driven a car packed with rowdy kids to a practice or spent a small fortune on equipment knows the true value of sports: a kid who loves kicking (or throwing or catching) a ball is a happy kid when they get to do it with their teammates. A kid who does anything they truly love to do is a happy kid.

So, it's not the agony of defeat or even the thrill of victory that keeps us hustling to all these games. We're just hoping to end up with a happy kid – who is thoroughly exhausted come Saturday night. Still, I wouldn't mind a Dunkin Donuts stand out there.